LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

GIFT   OH" 

Mrs.  SARAH  P.  WALSWORTH. 

Received  October,  1894. 
Accessions  No.v  .      Class  No. 


^ 

/2^^ 


A   PASTOR'S    LEGACY. 


PAST  OB'S    LEGACY 


SERMONS  ON   PRACTICAL   SUBJECTS. 


BY    1HK    LATK 


REV.    KUSKrSE   MASON,    D.D., 

PASTOR    Of   Tim    ;:i.KECKKK   SruKi.T    PUKSB V TERlUt    UUCEOlt,    !.V    TUB   CITY   Or   S« 


WITH    A    inilKK    MK.\iOIU    OF    TI1K    AUTHOR.    BV 
REV.    WILLIAM    ADAMS,    ]>.!). 


NEW    YORK: 

niARLT.S.    SCKIBNER,    H5    NASSAU    STREET. 
1858. 


Entered  according  to  A.ct  o!  Congress,  in  the  year  185'2,  by 

0  II  A  E  L  E  S    S  C  B  I  B  N  E  I'.  , 

In  tbe  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


Printed  by 

( •  .    W  .    BENEDICT, 
201  William  Street, 


THESE     DISCOURSES 

ARK     AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBKD 
TO 

THE  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH  AND  CONGREGATION 
IN   BLEECKER   STREET,  NEW  YORK.  ; 

FOR    WHOSE    BENEFIT    THEY    WERE    ORIGINALLY    PREPARED 


WHOSE    FACE    THEY     WILL    SEE     NO     MORK, 

BUT    WHOSE    WORDS 
SPOKEN     UNTO    THEM     WHILE     HE     WAS    VET    WITH    THEM, 

THEY    MUST    EVER    DESIRE   TO    HOLD 
IN      GRATEFUL      REMEMBRANCE:/ 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTICE, 


THE  day  before  his  decease,  DK.  MASON  expressed  the 
wish  that  he  had  selected  a  few  of  his  discourses,  to  l;e 
bequeathed  as  a  token  of  affectionate  regard  for  his 
people.  It  was  then  too  late  for  him  to  undertake  the 
selection.  After  his  death  the  desire  was  verv  generally 

•/     D  * 

expressed,  and  especially  by  those  who  had  been  privi 
leged  to  sit  under  his  ministry,  that  a  permanent  form 
might  be  given  to  those  thoughts,  which  had  been  to  so 
many  the  source  of  profit  and  delight.  By  gome  of 
his  professional  brethren,  it  was  proposed  that  his  dis 
courses  should  be  arranged  and  published  in  the  form 
of  a  Svstem  of  Divinity.  Meanwhile,  those  who  were. 

w  •/ 

more  immediately  interested,  were  desirous  of  a  less  pre 
tending  volume,  containing  some  of  those  more  practical 
Sermons,  which  were  still  fresh  in  their  remembrance. 
But  who  should  select  them  ?  and  on  what  principle 
should  they  be  selected,  when  all  were  of  such  uni 
form  merit?  The  feelings  of  an  auditor  are  not  the 
best  criterion  of  a  pulpit  performance.  The  degree  of 
interest  felt  in  one  discourse,  more  than  another,  may  be 


Vlll  INTRODUCTORY    NOTICE. 

owing  to  some  peculiarity  in  the  hearer's  own  circum 
stances,  rather  than  any  extraordinary  excellence  in  the 
discourse  itself. 

The  collection  of  Sermons  left  by  Dr.  Mason  was  large ; 
and  there  was  no  clue  to  the  judgment  which  their 
author  put  upon  his  own  productions,  or  the  principle, 
according  to  which,  he  would  have  made  a  selection  from 
them  for  publication. 

The  responsibility  of  choosing  from  a  thousand  manu 
scripts,  any  one  of  which,  for  aught  that  appeared,  was  nei 
ther  superior  nor  inferior  to  all  the  rest,  was  devolved  on  the 
.Rev.  Dr.  Van  Yechten,  of  Schenectady,  the  brother-in-law 
of  Dr.  Mason ;  and  the  present  volume  exhibits  the  result 
of  his  decision.  The  first  Sermon  in  the  collection  was  the 
last  ever  preached  by  its  lamented  author,  as  described 
in  the  accompanying  Memoir.  Full  of  pathos  as  were 
the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  delivered,  and  as  is 
every  sentence  which  it  contains,  the  reader  must  not 
expect  to  discover  in  a  discourse  prepared  in  the  debility 
of  the  sick  chamber,  that  march  and  method  of  style 
which  characterized  the  productions  of  the  same  author, 
in  the  fulness  of  intellectual  and  physical  strength. 


CONTENTS. 

I. 
DEATH  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  LIFE     .  ...       1 

II. 

THE  XATCRE  AND  DESIGN  OF  THE  CRUCIFIXION  SCENE       1 5 

III. 
"TiiE  LAMB  SLAIN  1$  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  THRONE"       36 


IY. 

REASONS  FOR  EMBRACING  THE  GOSPEL 


Y. 
THE  GUILT  OF  UNBELIEF  .....     80 

VI. 

PEACE  IN  BELIEVING'        ......  103 


YIL 

PEACE  IN  RELIEVING 
B 


CONTENTS. 


YIII. 

Fage. 

SUPPORTS  OF  FAITH  AMID  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  PROVI 
DENCE  .         .  .  145 


IX. 

MOSES  ON  THE  MOUNT 1GG 

X. 

THE   LIFE  TO  COME  .  186 


XI. 

PREPARATION  FOR   "  THE  LIFE   WHICH  is   TO  COME,'' 

HEAVEN      .  .  206 


XII. 
THE  DAY  OF  GRACE 227 

XIII. 
THE  NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT      .         .         .         .249 

XIY. 
EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT  .        .        .        .271 

XY. 

MAN  UNWILLING  TO  BE  SAVED  .  204 


XYI. 
A  STIFLED  CONSCIENCE      ...  .317 


CONTENTS.  XI 


XVII. 

Page 
HOISTING   THE    SPIlilT  .....    340 


XVIII. 

THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST          .         .        .  863 

'XIX. 

JUDAS  ISCARIOT  ;  OK,  THE  CONSEQUENCES  OF  A  WORLD 
LY  SPIRIT  .......  380 

XX. 

JUDAS  ISCAEIOT  ;  OK,  THE  FOWEE  or  CONSCIENCE        407 

XXI. 
HISTORY  or  SAUL 428 

XXII. 

ABUSED  PRIVILEGES  .  451 


MEMOIR. 

THE  life  of  a  Christian  minister  never  can  be 
written.  Its  incident-?  may  be  easily  mentioned, 
for  they  are  few.  His  parentage,  birth,  education, 
conversion,  ordination,  preaching,  illness  and  death, 
comprise  the  whole.  The  whole  f  His  real  life 
consists  not  in  striking  and  startling  events.  When 
the  streams  are  flushed  with  the  spring-freshet, 
overflowing  the  banks  and  sweeping  away  the 
dams  and  the  bridges,  the  marvel  is  heralded  in 
every  newspaper ;  but  when  the  same  streams  flow 
quietly  along  their  ordinary  channels,  making  the 
meadows  to  smile  with  verdure,  refreshing  the  roots 
of  the  trees  and  turning  the  wheels  of  the  mill, 
they  excite  no  remark,  even  though  their  tranquil 
flow  awakens  a  grateful  admiration.  Sum  up  the 
professional  labours  of  a  minister,  and  give  the  pro 
duct  in  so  many  sermons,  written  and  delivered  ! 


XIV  MEMOIE    OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

As    well   attempt    to  gather  up  the   rain,  meas 
ure  and  weigh  it.     A  certain  amount  of  water  you 
may  show,  but  what  of  the  moisture  which  has  been 
absorbed  by  the  tender  vegetable,  and  the  leaves 
of  the  trees  ?     The  life  of  a  preacher  is  spent  in  ad 
dressing  the  intellect  and  conscience  of  his  fellow- 
men.     Ten,  twenty,  thirty  years  has  he  preached. 
How  many  thoughts,  in  how  many  minds  has  he 
suggested  during  such  a  period  !     "What  manifold 
judgments  and  purposes,  what  great  hopes  and  wise 
fears  have  had  their  origin  in  his  own  thoughts  and 
words !     What  sayings  of  his  have  been  lodged  in 
men's  minds,  which  have  worked  in  secret  about 
the  roots  of  character!    Even  while  despondent  him 
self,  because  so  few  visible  results  of  his  toil  are  re 
vealed,  his  opinions  by  insensible  degrees  are  grow 
ing  into  the  convictions  of  others,  and  his  own  life 
is  infused  into  the  life  of  a  whole  generation.     It 
is  a  peculiarity  of  his  position  that  he  touches  the 
life  of  his  people  at  those  points  which  are  the 
most  memorable  and  important  in  their  existence. 
He  unites  them  in  marriage ;  baptizes  their  children, 
and  buries  their  dead.     He  dies,  and  is  soon  forgot 
ten  by  the  world.     The  sable  drapery  which  was 
hung  about  his  pulpit  on  his  funeral  day  is  taken 
down;  his  successor  is  chosen  and  installed,  and 
the  tide  of  life  rolls  on  as  before.     But  he  is  not 
forgotten  by  all.     His  life  is  not  all  lost  and  dissi- 


MEMOIR    OF   THE   AUTHOE.  XV 

pated.  As  the  manners  of  a  father  are  acted  over 
in  his  son,  and  the  smile  of  a  mother  will  brighten 
again,  after  she  is  dead,  on  the  face  of  her  daughter, 
so  will  the  sentiments  of  a  minister  be  transmitted 
after  his  ministry  is  closed,  his  words  be  repeat 
ed  after  he  has  ceased  to  speak,  and  all  his  hopes 
and  wishes  live  again  in  other  hearts,  long  af 
ter  his  own  beats  no  more.  His  biography  will 
not  be  finished  nor  disclosed  till  that  day  when  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  revealed  ;  and  the  seals 
of  his  ministry  will  be  set,  like  stars  in  the  firmament 
for  ever  and  ever.  To  accommodate  to  a  Christian 
minister,  the  language  employed  by  Mr.  Coleridge, 
in  reference  to  Bell,  the  founder  of  schools: — 
u  Would  I  frame  to  myself  the  most  inspirating  re 
presentation  of  future  bliss,  which  my  mind  is  ca 
pable  of  comprehending,  it  would  be  embodied  to 
me  in  the  idea  of  such  an  one  receiving  at  some 

o 

distant  period,  the  appropriate  reward  of  his  earthly 
labors,  when  thousands  of  glorified  spirits,  whose 
reason  and  conscience  had,  through  his  efforts,  been 
unfolded,  shall  sing  the  song  of  their  own  redemp 
tion,  and  pouring  forth  praise  to  God  and  to  their 
Saviour,  shall  repeat  his  'new  name'  in  heaven, 
give  thanks  for  his  earthly  virtues,  as  the  chosen 
instrument  of  divine  mercv  to  themselves,  and  not 

i/ 

seldom,  perhaps,  turning  their  eyes  toward  liim,  as 
from  the  sun  to  its  image  in  the  fountain,  with 


XVI  MEMOIE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 

secondary  gratitude  and  the  permitted  utterance  of 
a  human  love." 

There  is  a  wide  difference  between  a  Pastor  and 
an  Evangelist.  To  affirm  that  the  latter  is  never 
needed  and  never  useful,  would  be  to  doubt  the 
truth  of  the  Scriptures  and  scoff  at  the  Providence 
of  God.  The  writings  of  George  Herbert  prove 
how  early  and  how  deeply  imbedded  in  the  Eng 
lish  mind,  was  that  conception  of  the  sacred  office 
which  is  embodied  in  the  idea  of  one  teacher  minis 
tering  to  one  people ;  a  relation  well  described  by 
that  significant  word  Pastor,  obviously  borrowed 
from  the  employment  of  a  shepherd  feeding  his  flock. 
It  was  one  of  the  very  earliest  of  English  bards,  the 
father  of  English  poetry,  who  wrote  that  descrip 
tion  of  a  Parish  Priest. 

"  Yet  has  his  aspect  nothing  of  severe, 
But  such  his  face  as  promised  him  sincere ; 
Nothing  reserved  or  sullen  was  to  see, 
But  sweet  regard  and  pleasing  sanctity. 
Mild  was  his  accent,  and  his  action  free, 
With  eloquence  innate  his  tongue  was  arm'd, 
Though  harsh  the  precept,  yet  the  preacher  charin'd  ; 
For  letting  down  the  golden  chain  from  high, 
He  drew  his  audience  upwards  to  the  sky. 
He  taught  the  gospel  rather  than  the  law, 
And  forc'd  himself  to  drive,  but  lov'd  to  draw. 
The  tithes  his  parish  freely  paid  he  took, 
But  never  sued  or  curs'd  with  bell  and  book. 
Wide  was  his  parish,  nor  contracted  close 


MEMOIR    OF   THE   AUTHOR.  XV11 

In  streets  ;  but  here  and  there  a  straggling  house. 

Tet  still  he  was  at  hand  without  request, 

To  serve  the  sick  and  succour  the  distress'd  ; 

The  proud  he  tamed,  the  penitent  he  cheer'd, 

Nor  to  rebuke  the  rich  offender  fear'd. 

His  preaching  much,  but  more  his  practice  wrought, 

A  living  sermon  of  the  truths  he_taught.'' — CHAUCER. 

That  confidence  which,  is  born  of  intimate  ac 
quaintance,  familiar  intercourse,  and  friendly  sym 
pathy,  contributes  more  to  ministerial  influence 
than  the  meteoric  display  of  occasional  eloquence. 
"  A  stranger  will  they  not  follow."  But  it  was  of 
quite  another  thing  that  I  intended  to  speak  when 
comparing  the  life  of  a  pastor  and  evangelist.  The 
latter  visits  a  city  for  the  first  time,  and  preaches 
with  a  frequency  and  power  which  excite  amaze 
ment.  The  secular  press  heralds  it  as  little  short 
of  miraculous  that  a  mortal  should  be  able  with  no 
apparent  exhaustion,  day  after  day,  and  night  after 
night,  to  address  changing  crowds.  The  truth  is 
that  such  an  one  is  leading  a  life  of  intellectual 
recreation.  He  repeats  the  same  discourses  over 
and  over  again  in  the  course  of  his  itinerancy,  till 
they  are  as  familiar  to  his  memory,  and  facile  to 
his  utterance  as  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  and  he 
has  grown  expert  in  every  expression,  gesture  and 
intonation.  It  was  the  testimony  of  David  Garrick 
that  the  sermons  of  Whit-field,  as  specimens  of  ora 
torical  art,  never  reached  their  fullest  power  till 


XV111  MEMOIR    OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

the  fiftieth  repetition.  What,  for  intellectual  expen 
diture  is  such  a  career  compared  with  the  life  of  a 
pastor,  preaching  to  the  same  congregation  two  or 
three  times  a  week,  month  after  month,  year  after 
year,  with  increasing  interest,  profit  and  power ! 
The  late  Mr.  Sargeant  of  Philadelphia,  after  delight 
ing  an  audience  with  a  lecture  on  some  moral  topic, 
declared  to  a  friend  that,  for  the  labour  involved, 
he  would  prefer  to  speak  at  the  bar,  six  times  in 
a  week,  on  cases  made  to  his  hand,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  his  profession,  than  prepare  one  popular 
lecture  on  any  point  on  the  philosophy  of  law, 
once  in  a  month.  To  the  latter  the  weekly  prepa 
rations  of  a  minister  are  the  most  analogous,  yet 
how  few,  among  the  most  intelligent,  pause  to  re 
flect  what  is  implied  in  the  intellectual  labours  of 
a  pastor  like  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  protracted 
through  twenty  years,  in  connexion  with  the  same 
congregation,  with  ever-increasing  freshness,  no 
velty  and  delight. 

After  all,  what  a  poor  exponent  of  a  minister's 
influence  is  a  volume  of  his  sermons !  However 
elaborate  their  construction,  and  finished  their 
style,  they  are  but  the  residuum  of  a  sparkling 
cup.  Those  who  read  what  once  they  heard,  inva 
riably  confess  to  a  feeling  of  disappointment,  and 
can  with  difficulty  be  persuaded  that  the  sentences 
over  which  their  eye  passes  so  languidly,  on  the 


MEMOIR    OF   THE    ATJTHOE.  XIX 

printed  page,  are  tlie  very  same  which,  upon  their 
delivery  from  the  pulpit,  fresh  from  the  heart  and 
lips  of  their  author,  were  as  a  chariot  of  fire  to  the 
devout  auditor.  The  truth  is,  there  is  a  keeping 
between  the  thinking  and  the  speaking  of  a 
preacher.  His  manner  may  violate  all  the  rules  of 
his  art ;  nevertheless,  it  is  Jii-s  own,  and  no  other 
can  serve  so  well  for  the  expression  of  himself. 
It  is  Ms  emphasis  and  liis  intonation,  his  pause  and 
Tiis  look,  which  alone  can  give  the  full  and  just 
expression  of  his  own  meaning.  Think  of  a  ser 
mon  of  Leighton,  its  delicacy  of  sentiment  shading 
off  into  pure  spirituality,  delivered  by  a  Boanerges ; 
or  a  discourse  of  South,  repeated  tamely  by  an 
other,  without  the  author's  own  burning  eye,  sharp 
voice,  and  stabbing  finger. 

One  advantage,  indeed,  they  may  have,  who 
reading  the  discourses  of  their  pastor,  but  recently 
deceased,  retain  a  distinct  impression  of  his  form, 
face  and  manner,  seeming  to  hear  the  voice  which 
stirred  their  hearts  when  he  was  living.  This^ 
however,  is  but  a  shadowy  resemblance  of  a  once 
living  reality,  gone  never  to  be  renewed.  "  In 
fact,  every  attempt  to  present  on  paper  the  splendid 
effects  of  impassioned  eloquence,  is  like  gathering 
up  dew-drops,  which  appear  jewels  and  pearls  on 
the  grass,  but  run  to  water  in  the  hand ;  the 


XX  MEMOIR    OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

essence  and  the  elements  remain,  but  the  grace 
the  sparkle  and  the  form  are  gone."  * 

Notwithstanding  all  these  disadvantages,  we  have 
collected  here  some  of  the  sermons  of  a  distin 
guished  preacher,  in  the  form  of  a  Pastor's  Legacy ; 
and  before  their  author's  form  has  mouldered  away 
to  ashes,  the  trembling  hand  of  friendship  would 
draw  down  the  covering  from  the  face  of  the  dead, 
and  try  to  sketch  his  features,  for  the  recognition 
of  those  who  knew  him. 

ERSKINE  MASON  was  born  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  16th  April,  1805.  He  was  the  youngest 
child  of  Rev.  John  M.  Mason,  D.  D.,  whose  fame  as 
a  preacher  is  known  on  both  continents.  His 
mother,  Mrs.  Anna  L.  Mason,  was  the  grand 
daughter  of  Derick  Lefferts,  Esq.,  a  prominent 
and  affluent  merchant  of  New  York,  with  whom  she 
resided,  her  father  having  died  in  her  infancy.  Mrs. 
Mason  was  admired  from  her  youth  for  grace  of 
manners,  intelligence  of  mind,  excellent  discretion, 
and  cheerful  piety. 

Singularly  fortunate  in  his  ancestry,  the  subject 
of  this  memoir  had  for  his  paternal  grandfather, 
Rev.  John  Mason,  D.  D.,  distinguished  alike  for  his 
scholarship  and  eloquence.  Born  in  the  vicinity 
of  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  receiving  a  thorough  class 
ical  education,  competent  to  write  and  speak  the 

*  James  Montgomery,  on  Summerfield. 


MEM  OIK    OF    THE    AUTHOR.  XXI 

Latin  language,  in  his  day  the  language  of  the 
lecture-room  and  of  scholars,  he  was  invited  to  the 
pastoral  charge  of  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  church 
in  this  city,  at  that  time  in  Cedar-street.  In  that 
pulpit  he  continued  to  preach,  till  his  son,  Rev. 
John  M.  Mason,  D.  D.,  became  his  successor.  De 
scended  from  an  ancestry  so  illustrious,  we  may 
apply  to  the  subject  of  this  memoir  the  words 
which  Horace  first  addressed  to  Maecenas : 

" atavis  cditc  regibus  ;" 


and  he  followed  them  with  no  Julian  steps.  Er- 
skine  received  his  name  as  a  tribute  of  the  grateful 
respect  entertained  by  his  father  for  the  late  Rev. 
Dr.  John  Erskine  of  Edinburgh,  from  whom  he  had 
received  many  expresssions  of  kindness  while  prose 
cuting  his  own  theological  studies  in  that  city, 
near  the  close  of  the  last  century.  The  object 
of  his  father's  indulgent  and  hopeful  regard,  "  ten 
der  and  beloved  in  the  sight  of  his  mother,1'  this 
youngest  of  a  numerous  family  of  children,  dis 
played  in  his  boyhood  more  than  common  intelli 
gence  and  spirit,  which,  being  accompanied  with  no 
special  love  for  study,  or  effort  at  sedateness,  was 
the  occasion  of  no  small  anxiety  to  his  religious 
parents.  In  the  twelfth  year  of  his  age  he  was 
removed  from  home  to  the  family  of  his  brother- 
in-law,  Rev.  Dr.  Van  Vechten,  of  Schenectady,  and 


XX11  MEMOIR    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 

joined  the  school  of  Eev.  Mr.  Barnes.  Dr.  John 
son  has  veiy  justly  said,  "Not  to  mention  the 
school  or  master  of  distinguished  men,  is  a  kind  of 
historical  fraud,  by  which  honest  fame  is  injuriously 
diminished."  The  life  of  Mr.  Barnes  needed  not 
its  tragic  end  (he  was  killed  by  the  upsetting  of  a 
stage-coach,  the  day  after  he  had  preached  on  the 
uncertainty  of  life)  to  make  his  name  memorable. 
The  act  of  entering  the  school  of  this  judicious 
teacher,  in  company  with  his  own  brother,  James, 
always  correct,  high-minded  and  sedate,  was  the 
happy  crisis  in  the  life  of  Erskine,  when  he  awoke 
to  sober  reflection  and  earnest  purposes,  like  the 
visit  of  Sir  Thomas  Buxton  to  the  family  of  the 
Gurney's,  at  Earlham  Park. 

In  consequence  of  impaired  health,  Dr.  John  M. 
Mason  was  constrained  to  exchange  the  pastoral 
office  in  this  city  for  the  Presidency  of  Dickinson 
College,  at  Carlisle,  in  Pennsylvania.  Hither 
Erskine  accompanied  his  father,  and  was  entered  a 
member  of  the  College,  in  the  fourteenth  year  of 
his  age. 

And  here  I  avail  myself  of  the  pen  of  Rev.  Dr. 
Knox,  senior  pastor  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  church 
of  this  city,  the  son-in-law  of  Dr.  John  M.  Mason, 
who,  in  a  discourse  on  the  death  of  Rev.  William 
Cahoone,  some  three  years  ago,  expresses  himself 
as  follows: 


MEMOIR    OF   THE   AUTHOR.  XX111 

"  A  large  number  of  choice  young  men  of  this 
city  and  its  vicinity,  attracted  by  their  regard  for 
the  venerable  President,  and  the  faculty  he  had 
gathered  around  him,  followed  Dr.  Mason  to  Car 
lisle,  and  became  members  of  the  College.  In  the 
autumn  of  1822,  a  son  of  the  President,  James 
Hall  Ma-son,  a  youth  of  singular  purity  and  eleva 
tion  of  character,  eminent  promise  and  greatly  be 
loved,  having  just  received  his  degree,  and  with 
the  ministry  in  view,  after  a  violent  and  brief  illness, 
was  taken  away  by  death.  The  event  produced  a 
solemn  and  profound  impression  throughout  the 
College.  The  heart-stricken  father,  who  had  a 
short  time  before  parted  with  a  beloved  daughter, 
sat  as  one  astonished.  Clouds  and  darkness  were 
round  about  the  throne.  The  explanation  was  not 
yet.  When  the  bier  on  which  lay  the  body  of  his 
deceased  son  was  taken  up  by  his  young  compan 
ions,  to  be  conveyed  to  the  grave,  as  by  involun 
tary  and  uncontrollable  impulse,  he  spake,  '  Softly, 
young  men,  tread  softly,  ye  carry  a  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost !' 

"  This  dark  and  bereaving  dispensation,  in  the 
wonder-working  providence  of  God,  was  made  the 
occasion  and  commencement  of  a  work  of  grace, 
the  extent  and  results  of  which  eternity  alone  will 
be  able  to  disclose.  Of  the  students  who  then 
experienced  a  change  of  heart,  and  subsequently 


XXIV  MEMOIK    OF  THE   AUTHOK. 

devoted  themselves  to  the  ministry  of  Christ,  a 
majority  being  of  the  senior  class,  I  have  been 
able  to  recall  the  names  vi  fifteen;  among  them 
many  familiar  to  us  all,  such  as  Mr.  Cahoone, 
Dr.  Bethune  of  Philadelphia,  Dr.  Erskine  Ma 
son  of  this  city,  Dr.  Morris  of  Baltimore,  Bishop 
M'Coskry  of  Michigan,  Messrs.  Labagh  of  Long 
Island,  Boice  of  Claverack,  and  others,  with  no  less 
fidelity  and  usefulness  occupying  different  and  im 
portant  stations  in  the  church.  In  addition  to  these, 
and  of  the  same  class  with  a  majority  of  them,  six 
young  men  are  recollected,  who  were  members  of 
the  church  previous  to  the  revival,  but  who  proba 
bly  were  more  or  less  influenced  during  that  scene, 
in  devoting  themselves  to  the  ministry.  These 
were  President  Young  of  Kentucky,  Prof.  Agnew 
of  Michigan,  Mr.  Holmes,  Missionary  among  the 
Chickasaws,  Rev.  Messrs.  Whitehead  and  Vancleef 
of  our  church,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Williams,  formerly  of 
Salem,  K  Y." 

"  Connected  with  this  revival  are  various  remark 
able  circumstances.  It  furnishes  a  chapter  in  God's 
gracious  providence,  which  deserves  to  be  had  in 
admiring  and  grateful  remembrance." 

"  In  its  origin  it  was  remarkable.  It  was  as  life 
from  the  dead.  That  which,  to  all  human  view, 
seemed  to  abstract  from  the  anticipated  services  of 
the  church,  and  to  depress  the  hearts  of  the  godly, 


MEMOIR  OF  THE  AUTHOE.         XXV 

in  the  early  translation  of  a  youth  of  high  and 
holy  promise,  became  the  occasion  in  the  dispensa 
tions  of  Him  who  worketh  all  things  according 
to  the  counsels  of  his  own  will,  of  quickening  many 
souls,  and  sending  into  the  vineyard  of  our  Lord  a 
band  of  faithful  labourers,  who  have  sustained  the 
heat  and  burden  of  the  day." 

"  The  work  was  remarkable  in  the  fact,  that 
although  previously  many  of  its  subjects  were 
very  inconsiderate  and  heedless  of  their  obliga 
tions,  and  were  the  objects  of  great  solicitude, 
those  at  least  to  whom  we  have  referred  as  having 
been  called  to  the  ministry  were,  every  one  of 
them,  from  the  bosom  of  Christian  families,  care 
fully  trained  in  the  knowledge  of  divine  things — 
sons  on  whose  behalf  prayer  to  God  had  ascended 
day  by  day  continually." 

"  Remarkable,  in  the  fact,  that,  of  so  large  a  num 
ber  brought  into  the  church  at  the  same  time, 
under  all  the  excitement  of  such  a  scene,  all  have 
maintained  their  integrity,  not  one  has  fallen,  or 
faltered,  or  backslidden.  All  have  been  useful, 
many  of  them  eminently  so." 

"  Remarkable,  in  the  additional  fact,  that  after 
the  lapse  of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  this 
hallowed  band  has  now  with  a  single  exception,  for 
the  first  time,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  ascer 
tain,  been  invaded  by  death.  With  this  exception 
c 


XXVI  MEMOIR   OF   THE   AUTHOK. 

our  brother  Cahoone  is  the  first  of  them  all  to  be 
released  from  his  labours,  and  taken  to  his  recom 
pense." 

Graduating  in  1823  Erskine  Mason  spent  a  con 
siderable  part  of  the  next  year  with  his  cousin, 
the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Duncan,  of  Baltimore,  prosecuting 
his  studies  under  the  direction  of  that  distinguished 
preacher.  In  the  summer  session  of  1825  he  re 
sorted  to  Princeton,  and  connected  himself  with 
the  middle  class  of  the  Theological  Seminary  in 
that  place,  where  he  completed  his  professional 
education. 

On  the  20th  October,  1826,  he  was  ordained  in 
the  Scotch  Presbyterian  church  in  Cedar  Street, 
by  the  second  Presbytery  of  New- York,  and  in 
the  next  year  was  installed  over  the  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Schenectady. 

On  the  26th  September,  1827,  he  was  married 
by  his  father  to  Miss  Mary  McCoskry,  daughter  of 
Dr.  Samuel  A.  McCoskry,  and  granddaughter  of 
the  celebrated  Dr.  Charles  Nesbit,  President  of 
Dickinson  College.  Mrs.  Mason  survives  her  hus 
band  with  three  daughters  and  one  son,  all  of  suf 
ficiently  mature  age  to  sympathize  with  their 
widowed  mother  in  their  common  bereavement. 

Converted  by  the  grace  of  God,  educated  for 
the  Christian  ministry,  inducted  into  the  sacred 
office,  the  true  life  of  Dr.  Mason  now  begins.  With 


MEMOIR    OF   THE    AUTHOE.  XXVll 

the  highest  models  of  pulpit  eloquence  before  him, 
in  his  own  father  and  grandfather ;  deeply  im 
pressed  with  the  sanctities  and  responsibilities  of 
his  profession,  he  appears  from  the  very  first  to 
have  proposed  to  himself  no  common-place  medi 
ocrity  in  his  pulpit  preparations,  but  eminence  of 
the  highest  order.  Though  he  was  but  twenty-one 
years  of  age  at  the  time  of  his  ordination,  he  in 
tended  that  no  one  should  "  despise  his  youth ;" 
and  that  no  measure  of  toil  should  be  withheld 
which  was  necessary  to  prevent  him  as  a  "  work 
man  "  from  being  "  ashamed."  In  a  striking  pas 
sage  in  one  of  the  Greek  tragedies,  a  character  is 
introduced  expressing  great  surprise,  that,  amidst 
all  the  inventions  and  attainments  of  human  science 
and  art,  there  should  be  found  so  few  to  cultivate 
that  art  of  persuasion  which  is  the  mistress  of  hu 
man  volition,  and  so  the  helm  of  human  affairs. 
The  pastor  of  an  educated  and  intellectual  congre 
gation, — the  faculty  and  students  of  Union  College 
attending  on  his  ministry,  Dr.  Mason  neglected  not 
that  undervalued  art  of  conviction,  but  addressed 
himself  to  the  understanding  of  his  hearers  with  a 
clearness  of  conception  and  a  depth  of  thought, 
which,  in  the  language  of  the  venerable  Dr.  Nott, 
u  appeared  wonderful  in  so  young  a  man."  "  His 
power,"  such  is  the  continued  testimony  of  this  dis 
tinguished  witness,  "  was  chiefly  felt  in  the  pulpit. 


XXV111  MEMOIK  OF   THE   ATJTHOE. 

He  appeared  to  be  conscious  that  his  mission  was 
to  preach  the  gospel ;  and  in  the  performance  of 
that  duty  he  excelled.  He  was  greatly  beloved  by 
his  people,  highly  esteemed  by  the  citizens  gene 
rally,  and  his  removal  from  the  place  was  regretted 
by  all,  and  by  none  more  than  by  the  officers  and 
members  of  Union  College." 

The  Bleecker  Street  Presbyterian  Church,  in 
New- York,  gathered  by  the  persevering  labours  of 
Hev.  Matthias  Bruen,  was  early  called  to  weep  over 
the  remains  of  their  accomplished  pastor,  who  died 
on  the  6th  December,  1829,  in  the  thirty-seventh 
year  of  his  age.  To  the  pastoral  office  of  this  church 
Dr.  Mason  was  unanimously  invited ;  and  to  this  new 
field  was  he  transferred  September  10th,  1830,  with 
the  experience  of  but  three  years  in  his  profession  ; 
and  to  this  people,  though  often  invited  elsewhere, 
did  he  devote  his  best  services,  for  more  than  twenty 
years,  to  the  close  of  his  life.  At  the  time  of  his  settle 
ment  over  that  people,  the  Bleecker  St.  Church  was 
quite  above  the  centre  of  the  city  population ;  that 
tide  of  removal  and  growth  which  has  since  made 
such  prodigious  advances,  scarcely  having  com 
menced.  An  "  up-town  church,"  however,  afforded 
accommodations  and  attractions  to  those  who  soon 
began  to  change  their  residence,  and  such  was  the 
ability  displayed  by  the  pastor  in  Bleecker  Street, 
that  it  was  not  long  before  that  church  was  en- 


JIEMOIE    OF   THE   AUTHOE.  XXIX 

tirely  filled ;  and,  for  many  years  after,  it  occu 
pied  a  position  which  gave  it  pre-eminent  advan 
tages  over  all  other  churches  of  the  same  de 
nomination  in  the  city.  Nothing  of  opportunity 
was  lacking  on  the  one  part,  and  nothing  of  talent, 
diligence,  and  success  on  the  other.  The  congre 
gations  were  large  and  intelligent,  and  every  thing 
encouraged  that  purpose  which  the  pastor  had 
formed  to  devote  himself  to  the  one  thing  of  a 
studious,  careful,  and  excellent  preparation  for  the 
pulpit.  Others  might  ^grasp  at  a  different  prize, 
and  select  a  different  path,  but  the  composition  and 
delivery  of  good  sermons  was  the  object  for  which 
his  taste,  talent,  and  judgment  of  usefulness  best 
qualified  him.  From,  that  occupation  he  never  suf 
fered  himself  to  be  diverted.  There  are  many 
extemporaneous  sermons  written  out  in  full.  With 
Dr.  Mason,  the  composition  of  a  discourse  was 
never  postponed  to  some  anticipated  uncertainty 
of  favourable  feeling,  or  to  the  last  pressure  of 
inevitable  necessity.  Before  he  had  lost  the  im 
pulse  of  one  Sabbath  he  had  begun  the  preparation 
for  another.  It  was  his  deliberate  judgment,  that 
a  minister,  special  cases  only  excepted,  could  serve 
his  people  the  best,  after  preaching  twice  in  the 
day,  to  pass  the  evening  of  the  Sabbath  at  his  own 
home ;  and  seldom  did  he  retire  that  night  without 
having  decided  upon  the  topic  which  was  to  be 


XXX  MEMOIR    OF    THE   AUTHOE. 

the  subject  of  study  and  preparation  throughout 
the  week.  Thus  he  never  lost  the  headway  he 
had  gained ;  neither  weary  himself,  nor  waste  time 
in  searching  for  subjects,  or  waiting  for  them 
"  to  come  to  him,"  as  the  phrase  is  which  describes 
the  suggestion  of  topics  by  accidental  association. 
Adhering  to  the  counsel  of  our  great  dramatist, 

"  Stick  to  your  journal  course :  the  breach  of  custom 
Is  breach  of  all," 

he  has  left  a  thousand  sermons,  (of  their  intel 
lectual  and  theological  excellencies  I  shall  speak 
hereafter,)  written  entire  in  the  perfection  of  pen 
manship,  as  the  proofs  of  the  wise  and  faithful 
manner  in  which  he  occupied  the  pulpit. 

In  versatility  of  talent  he  may  have  been  ex 
celled  by  others.  The  richest  banker  who  can 
draw  the  largest  check  does  not  always  carry 
about  with  him  the  greatest  amount  of  small  coin. 
Warmly  social  in  his  temperament,  Dr.  Mason  was 
never  garrulous ;  and  that  false  idea  of  pastoral 
duty  which  many  seem  to  cherish,  requiring  the 
consumption  of  one's  chief  time  in  going  from  house 
to  house,  and  conversing  in  the  ordinary  chit-chat 
of  trifles,  he  utterly  discarded.  Because  of  this 
was  he  deficient  as  a  pastor  ?  "Who  of  his  people 
ever  knew  a  substantial  sorrow  or  necessity  without 
his  presence  and  aid  ?  Did  Age  ever  complain  of 


MEMOIK   OF   THE   AUTHOE.  XXXI 

disrespect,  or  Grief  of  his  want  of  sympathy,  or 
Suffering   that  lie  refused  a  balm?     While   the 
pulpit  was  the  throne  of  his  strength,  who  could 
speak,  out  of  it,  more  wisely  than  he  ?   If  he  some 
times  appeared  to  be  taciturn,  who  shall  forget  that 
silence,  in  its  place,  is  wisdom  as  well  as  speech ;  that 
modesty  is  a  beautiful  property  of  greatness,  and 
that  he  talks  to  the  best  purpose,  who  says  the  right 
thing  at  the  right  time,  and  in  the  right  manner  ? 
How  often  has  ministerial  usefulness  been  impaired 
by  folly  and  frivolity  of  speech.   What  Dr.  Johnson 
has  said  of  an  author's  book  is  equally  true  of  a 
preacher's  public  office.     "  The  transition  from  it 
to  his  conversation,  is  too  often  like  an  entrance 
into  a  large  city  after  a  distant  prospect.     Re 
motely  we  see  nothing  but  spires  of  temples  and 
turrets  of  palaces,  and  imagine  it  the  residence  of 
splendour,  grandeur  and  magnificence ;  but  when 
we  have  passed  the  gates  we  find  it  perplexed  with 
narrow  passages,  disgraced   with  despicable  cot 
tages,  embarrassed  with  obstructions,  and  clouded 
with  smoke."    No  one,  after  being  impressed  with 
the  dignity  of  Dr.  Mason  in  the  pulpit,  lost  that 
impression  when  meeting  him  in  the  familiarities 
of  private  life.     It  was  said  of  some  one  whose  in 
felicities  and  iniprudencies  of  manner  and  conver 
sation  were   equalled   only  by  his   extraordinary 
endowments  as  a  preacher,  "that  when  in  the  pul- 


XXX11  MEMOIR   OF   THE   AUTHOE. 

pit  one  might  wish  tliat  lie  was  never  out  of  it ;  but 
when  out  of  it  one  could  wish  that  he  should  never 
be  in  it."  Confidence  in  the  soundness  of  his  judg 
ment,  the  integrity  of  his  motives,  and  the  sincerity 
of  his  piety,  is  the  secret  of  a  preacher's  success ;  let 
that  confidence  be  shaken  by  one  act  of  folly,  and 
the  rod  of  his  strength  is  broken.  It  were  well  if 
every  preacher  of  the  gospel  should  bear  in  mind 
the  last  sentiment  of  the  following  allegory,  by  one 
of  the  oldest  poets  in  our  language. 

",'TJpon  a  time,  Eeputation,  Love,  and  Death 
Would  travel  o'er  the  world  :  and  'twas  concluded 
That  they  should  part,  and  take  their  several  ways. 
Death  told  them  they  would  find  him  in  great  battles, 
Or  cities  plagued  with  plagues  :  Love  gives  them  counsel 
T"  enquire  for  him  'mongst  unambitious  shepherds 
Where  dowries  were  not  talked  of :  and  sometimes 
'Mongst  quiet  kindred  that  had  nothing  left 
By  their  dead  parents.     Stay,  quoth  Reputation, 
If  once  I  part  from  any  man  I  meet 
I  am  never  found  again."* 

The  discourses  of  Dr.  Mason  advertise  their  own 
quality.  Those  which  compose  this  volume  are  in 
no  respect  superior  to  hundreds  more  from  the  same 
pen.  Their  first  excellence  is  that  they  are  deci 
dedly  scriptural  and  evangelical.  A  French 
preacher  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV,  in  a  sermon 
to  his  brother  monks,  in  which  he  bewails  their 

*  Webster,  1610. 


MEMOIR   OF   THE   AUTHOE.  XXX1U 

criminal  neglect  of  the  fundamental  doctrines  of 
the  gospel,  makes  this  candid  confession :  "  We  are 
worse  than  Judas  ;  he  sold  and  delivered  his  Mas 
ter:  we  sell  him,  but  deliver  him  not."  In  the 
preaching  of  Dr.  Mason  was  no  such  defect  as  that 
referred  to  in  this  tremendous  satire.  He  was  a 
Christian  preacher ;  and  in  his  eye  all  truth  ar 
ranged  itself  around  the  cross  of  Christ,  compared 
with  which,  the  world  beside,  is,  as  Leighton  well 
expresses  it,  one  "  grand  impertinency."  I  know  not 
how  to  describe  what  he  was  in  this  regard,  so 
well  as  in  the  use  of  his  own  words  when  describ 
ing  what  a  minister  should  be.  In  a  discourse 
preached  by  him  at  Newburgh,  October,  1838,  be 
fore  the  Synod  of  New  York,  of  which,  in  his  33d 
year,  he  was  then  Moderator,  which  discourse  was, 
by  the  request  of  his  brethren  subsequently  printed, 
entitled  "The  Subject  and  Spirit  of  the  Ministry," 
he  employs  the  following  language.  I  am  led  to 
extract  largely  from  this  discourse,  for  the  benefit 
of  those  who  would  know  the  character  of  its  au 
thor,  for  it  seems  to  be  a  daguerreotype  likeness 
of  himself. 

"  By  the  gospel  of  Christ,  as  an  instrument  of 
human  conversion,  I  suppose  we  are  to  understand 
all  those  principles  which  cluster  around  the  doc 
trine  of  vicarious  atonement  as  their  common  cen 
tre  ;  the  lost,  ruined,  helpless  condition  of  man  as 


_  XXXIV       MEMOIR  OF  THE  AUTHOE. 

a  sinner,  the  provision  which  the  grace  of  God  has 
made  for  him,  involving  the  nature,  character,  the 
righteousness  even  unto  death  of  Jesus  Christ 
as  the  ground  of  pardon ;  the  regenerating  and 
sanctifying  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
the  promises  of  good,  as  well  as  threatenings  of 
evil,  which  have  been  sealed  in  atoning  blood. 
These,  and  their  correlative  truths,  usually  com 
prised  under  the  general  term  of  gospel,  constitute 
the  exhibition  to  us  of  those  great  facts,  in  view  of 
which  we  are  brought  into  the  kingdom  of  God, 
and  prepared  for  eternal  glory.  They  all  give  rise 
to,  spring  from,  or  serve  to  illustrate  the  sufferings 
of  the  Son  of  God.  You  cannot  find  a  single  doc 
trinal  statement  in  the  New  Testament  which  does 
not  carry  you  directly  to  the  cross,  or  for  the  ex 
planation  of  which  you  must  not  go  to  that  cross. 
You  cannot  find  a  single  motive,  nor  a  single  expla 
nation,  nor  a  single  offer,  nor  a  single  warning,  nor 
a  single  appeal,  to  which  the  cross  of  Christ  does 
not  give  meaning  and  power — that  is  the  radiating 
point  of  light  and  heat  to  the  whole  system.  Blot 
out  from  the  gospel  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  vicari 
ous  atonement,  and  you  rob  it  of  all  its  vitality ; 
and  it  remains  to  be  seen  what  you  have  left,  be 
yond  the  frigid  influence  of  infidelity,  or  what 
effectiveness  your  teachings  carry  along  with  them 
to  correct  the  evils  of  the  human  heart,  to  give 


MEMOIR   OF   THE   AUTHOE.  XXXV 

peace  to  the  Human  conscience,  or  to  make  man 
like  his  God. 

"  It  is  evident,  if  what  I  have  advanced  is  true, 
that  the  power  of  the  gospel  lies  in  the  facts  tltem- 
selve-s,  which  it  discloses.  It  is  by  "bringing  tliem 
into  contact  with  the  human  mind  that  you  secure 
the  results  of  the  gospel ;  and  whatever  you  may 
do,  however  ingeniously  you  may  argue,  however 
earnestly  you  may  labour,  however  impassioned 
may  be  your  appeals ;  you  argue,  and  labour,  and 
appeal  in  vain,  so  long  as  the  great  facts  of  the 
gospel  system  are  not  brought  to  tell  with  power 
upon  the  conscience  and  the  heart.  There  is  such 
a  thing  as  speculating  about  the  gospel,  taking  up 
its  principles  as  mere  themes  of  philosophical 
investigation  ;  approaching  it  and  handling  it  as  a 
mere  theory,  which  passes  sometimes  under  the 
name  of  preaching  the  gospel,  which  is,  after  all, 
nothing  more  than  exhibiting  one's  own  philoso 
phy  ;  and  which,  placing  that  philosophy  in  the 
front  ground  before  the  human  mind,  conceals  the 
great  facts  of  the  revelation  of  God ;  and  is,  there 
fore,  not  only  without  beneficial  result,  but  pre 
vents  those  facts  from  producing  their  designed 
effect,  standing,  as  it  does,  between  the  mind  and 
their  perception. 

"  I  do  not  mean,  by  this  remark,  to  cast  odium 
upon  what  is  called  the  philosophy  of  Christianity, 


XXXVI  MEMOIE   OF   THE   AUTHOK. 

nor  to  rebuke  as  wrong  all  inquiries  into  the  mode 
of  the  truth's  operation,  and  the  best  methods  of 
presenting  the  facts  of  the  gospel.  Every  minister 
of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  a  Christian  philosopher,  if 
he  would  be  '  a  workman,  tliat  needetli  not  to  le 
ashamed,  rightly  dividing  the  word  of  truth  f  he 
must  be  one,  if  he  would  remove  the  obstacles 
which  a  false  philosophy  has  interposed  to  the  in 
fluence  of  the  truth ;  he  must  be  one,  if  he  would 
work  a  way  for  the  truth  through  the  varied  and 
almost  endlessly  diversified  windings  of  the  human 
bosom,  and  find  for  it  a  lodgement  in  the  human 
mind ;  and  he  who  cannot  be  one,  is  unfit  for  the 
office  which  he  exercises. 

"  And  this,  what  I  call  the  philosophy  of  Chris 
tianity,  presents  a  legitimate  field  for  the  exercise 
of  the  human  mind.  There  may  be  diversities 
here  in  the  results  at  which  different  minds  may 
arrive  ;  but  so  long  as  the  facts  themselves  of  the 
gospel  are  brought  out  to  view  in  all  their  distinct 
ness,  the  power  of  the  gospel  remains,  since  that 
power  is  found  not  in  the  philosophy  of  those  facts, 
but  in  the  facts  themselves.  When  I  speak  of,  and 
condemn  speculations  about  the  gospel,  I  refer  to  all 
attempts  to  philosophize  away  its  facts,  or  to  those 
laborious  arguments  which  give  the  mind  nothing 
but  philosophy ;  which  make  the  rationale,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  the  main  thing,  and  truth  second- 


MEMOIR    OF   THE    AUTHOE.  XXXV11 

ary ;  which  may  teach  men  to  reason  but  not  to  be 
lieve  ;  which  may  show  them  how  they  ought  to 
be  convinced,  but  never  convict  them ;  how  they 
ought  to  repent,  but  present  them  nothing  in  view 
of  which  to  repent :  in  fine,  which  make  philoso 
phers,  or  rather  sciolists  in  philosophy,  sometimes ; 
but  Christians,  never.  Let  a  man  philosophize  as 
much  as  he  pleases ;  but  against  two  things  let  him 
be  on  his  guard — philosophizing  away  the  facts  of 
the  gospel,  and  bringing  his  philosophy  with  him 
into  the  pulpit.  He  may  use  it  to  guide  him  in  his 
exhibition  of  truth ;  he  may  use  it  in  giving  shape 
to  his  argument,  place  to  his  exhortations,  and  time 
to  his  appeals ;  but  let  him  never  use  it  as  itself,  an 
instrument  for  the  accomplishment  of  saving  results. 
A  minister  of  Christ  may  in  his  study  be  a  philos 
opher  always ;  in  his  pulpit,  never. 

"  No  man  can  be  truly  said  to  preacli  Christ,  who 
is  not  himself  personally  interested  in  his  theme.  I 
know  that  the  words  of  the  gospel  may  be  uttered 
— and  the  arguments  of  the  gospel  may  be  advanced 
— and  the  consciences  of  men  may  be  plied  with  the 
claims  and  appeals  of  the  gospel.  It  may  be  all  done 
with  eloquence  of  diction,  and  grace  of  utterance ; 
it  may  disclose  the  workings  of  a  powerful  genius, 
and  constrain  men  to  do  homage  to  the  might  of  in 
tellect  ;  but  there  is  no  preaching  of  the  gospel.  The 
science  of  experience,  and  the  language  consecrated 


XXXV111  MEMOIE    OF   THE   AUTIIOK. 

to  it,  may  be  mastered ;  but  the  gospel  will  not  be 
preached.  No  man  can  preach  who  does  not  himself 
perceive  the  glory  of  Christ,  and  know  the  precious- 
ness  of  Christ.  Spiritual  knowledge,  spiritual  feeling, 
and  the  powerful  impulse  which  is  derived  from  prin 
ciple  alone,  are  essential  requisites  to  a  preacher. 
Without  them  there  may  be  fire,  but  it  will  be  false ; 
there  may  be  an  unction,  but  it  will  be  spurious. 
Under  ministrations  however  clear,  however  power 
ful,  as  exhibitions  of  intellect,  yet  unbaptized  with 
the  spirit  of  Christ,  not  a  cord  will  be  touched,  not 
a  heart  will  be  moved.  Give  a  man  what  you 
please,  in  point  of  genius,  learning,  eloquence,  he 
wants  more  to  make  him  a  preacher — he  wants  that 
genius  enlightened,  that  learning  directed,  and  those 
lips  of  eloquence  touched  by  the  spirit  of  his  mas 
ter.  Let  him  but  be  gifted  with  a  spiritual  discern 
ment,  and  the  change  is  amazing.  New  treasures 
of  every  kind  will  be  disclosed ;  floods  of  sublime 
emotion,  fields  of  brilliant  imagery,  and  super-hu 
man  power  of  persuasiveness.  It  is  not  eloquence, 
in  the  proper  sense  of  that  term,  that  constitutes 
the  rod  of  the  ministry ;  it  is  the  tone  of  their  feel- 
iog,  the  holy  unction  of  their  utterance  ;  and  this  is 
the  result  of  the  impressions  of  the  gospel  upon  their 
own  souls.  This  is,  in  fact,  the  ground-work  of  all 
excellence ;  the  first,  the  chief  element  of  all  pas 
toral  competency ;  and  when  we  read  this  remark- 


MEMOIR    OF   THE   AUTHOR.  XXXIX 

able  resolution  of  the  Apostles,  l  We  will  give  our 
selves  continually  to  prayer]  we  seein  to  have  reach 
ed  the  secret  of  their  soul  prosperity,  their  preach 
ing  eminence,  their  wonderful  success.  They  preach 
ed  the  gospel,  because  they  felt  the  gospel.  God 
was  with  them,  as  they  were  with  God. 

"  Oh  !  if  I  am  right  in  my  supposition  as  to  the 
requisites  of  a  herald  of  the  cross  ;  if  a  man  must 
possess  the  spirit  of  Christ  in  order  to  preach  Christ ; 
is  there  not  room  for  the  inquiry,  whether  we  do 
indeed  preach  Christ  ?  and  if  the  spirit  of  our  office 
is  gone,  no  wonder  that  its  results  are  absent  also. 

"  The  spirit  of  the  ministry  is  a  spirit  of  self-re 
nunciation,  '  We  preach  not  ourselves?  In  the  state 
ment  of  this  general  principle,  and  in  its  truth,  we 
shall  all  agree,  while  it  is  possible  that  through  the 
deceitfulness  of  our  hearts  we  may  be  blind  to  our 
constant  contradiction  of  it.  It  is  not  only  when 
our  aim  in  our  office  is  the  promotion  of  private 
interest,  that  we  do  preach  ourselves.  We  may 
pour  our  severest  censures  upon  the  man  who  would 
say,  ^Pui  me  into  one  of  the  priests'  offices,  that  I  may 
eat  apiece  of  bread]  or  give  vent  to  a  burst  of  holy 
indignation  against  him  who  uses  his  office  for  the 
purposes  of  earthly  emolument,  while  at  the  same 
time  we  may  be  involved  in  the  same  condemnation 
with  himself. 

"  We  may  preach  ourselves,  when  we  are  as  far 


X  MEMOIK   ON"   THE   AUTHOR. 

removed  as  possible  from  the  influence  of  mere  pe 
cuniary  considerations.  There  are  temptations  of 
an  intellectual  kind,  the  dangers  of  which  must  be 
seen  to  be  many  and  powerful  by  every  man  who 
knows  any  thing  of  his  own  heart.  They  exist  in 
proportion  to  the  greatness  or  splendor  of  endow 
ments  which  God  has  bestowed  upon  him  who  ex 
ercises  the  ministerial  office.  LAn  eloquent  man,  and 
migJity  in  tlie  Scriptures]  may  be  above  the  grati 
fication  which  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of 
silver  and  gold  would  bestow ;  and  yet  he  may 
preach  himself,  by  aiming  at  the  applause  of  his 
listening  auditory.  It  is  always  so  with  him  who 
is  more  concerned  about  the  impression  he  makes 
upon  the  minds  of  his  hearers  as  to  the  character 
of  his  exhibitions  of  truth,  than  about  the  impres 
sion  he  makes  upon  their  minds  respecting  Christ. 
Though  a  man  may  understand  the  gospel,  he  may 
conceal  its  glorious  object  behind  the  display  of  his 
own  powers ;  and  he  may  use  that  object,  as  it  may 
serve  to  fix  the  attention  of  men  more  firmly  and 
exclusively  upon  himself.  He  holds  up  the  pole, 
but  the  brazen  serpent  is  invisible ;  and  so  charms 
the  ears  with  the  sound  of  the  silver  trumpets,  as 
to, make  the  people  forget  the  jubilee  they  are  in 
tended  to  proclaim.  Such  a  man  preaches  himself, 
not  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord." 

Little  danger  was  there  that  a  man  holding  such 


MEMOIR   OF   THE   AUTHOE.  xli 

sentiments  as  these  would  ever  prostitute  the  pul 
pit  to  purposes  of  mere  rhetorical  display  or  intel 
lectual  entertainment.  The  cross  of  Christ  being 
Ms  theme,  there  was  no  imitation  of  that  cardinal 
fault  of  a  celebrated  painter  who,  in  a  picture  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  has  made  the  gold  and  the  sil 
ver  vessels  so  large,  magnificent  and  brilliant  as  to 
divert  the  eye  of  the  spectator  from  the  main  sub 
ject  of  the  piece.  He  had  no  ambition  to  select 
pearls  and  diamonds  when  plainer  materials  would 
serve  his  purpose  better.  His  characteristics  were 
clearness,  precision  and  force.  Convinced  himself, 
he  sought  to  convince  others.  Relying  on  God,  he 
believed  that  the  truth  was  capable  of  being  so  ex 
hibited  as  to  commend  itself  to  every  man's  con 
science.  Studying  that  truth  himself,  and  feeling 
its  adaptation  to  his  own  intellect  and  heart, 
his  presentations  of  truth  always  had  the  freshness 
of  originality  without  the  least  suspicion  of  that 
ambition  and  affectation  which  often  passes  by  that 
name.  His  preaching  was  argumentative  and  log 
ical.  Commencing  with  some  obvious  truth,  which 
all  would  admit,  he  advanced  step  by  step,  carry 
ing  one  conviction  after  another,  by  a  process  of 
demonstration  which  would  admit  of  no  escape  till 
lie  reached  that  conclusion,  in  the  application  of 
which  he  poured  out  the  fullness  and  fervor  of  his 
religious  pathos.  A  distinguished  civilian,  skilled 


Xlii  3CEMOIE   OF  THE   AUTHOR. 

in  diplomacy,  and  an  adept  in  letters,  invited  once 
by  a  friend,  a  parishioner  of  Dr.  Mason,  to  hear 
liiin  preach,  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  pew,  at  first 
somewhat  listless,  then  alert,  and  following  the  ar 
gument  with  intense  interest,  till  his  countenance 
betrayed  the  emotion  which  was  working  in  his 
heart,  exclaimed  on  leaving  the  church,  "  Well,  I 
know  not  what  you  who  are  accustomed  to  this 
may  think;  as  for  myself,  I  never  heard  such 
preaching  before.  As  Lord  Peterborough  said  to 
Fenelon  at  Carnbray,  '  If  I  stay  here  longer,  I  shall 
become  a  Christian  in  spite  of  myself.'  r 

"We  can  always  judge  of  a  minister's  heart  by  his 
public  prayers.  He  who  exhibits  no  feeling  in  his 
addresses  to  God,  and  wakes  to  fervour  only  as  he 
addresses  his  fellow-men,  cannot  have  much  of  the 
vitality  of  religion.  The  devotional  exercises  of 
Dr.  Mason,  marked  alike  by  dignity  and  fervour, 
correct  expression  and  strong  emotion,  were  proof 
in  themselves  that  the  object  of  his  ministry  was 
to  preach  not  himself  but  Christ  Jesus,  and  that 
the  grand  purpose  of  his  heart  was  co-incident 
with  that  avowed  by  the  great  Apostle  in  these 
memorable  words :  "  "Whom  we  preach,  warning 
every  man  and  teaching  every  man  in  all  wis 
dom;  that  we  may  present  every  man  perfect 
in  Christ  Jesus,  whereunto  I  also  labour,  striving 
according  to  his  working,  which  worketh  in  me 


MEMOIR    OF   THE   ATJTHOE. 

mightily."  A  serious-minded,  earnest  man,  who 
believed  the  truth,  and  loved  the  souls  of  his 
people,  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to  any  trivial 
topic,  nor  imitate  the  cruelty  of  the  Roman  emperor, 
who,  in  a  time  of  famine,  imported  costly  sands 
for  his  amphitheatres,  instead  of  bread  for  his  starv 
ing  subjects. 

A  Presbyterian  by  birth,  education  and  prefer 
ence,  Dr.  Mason  was  too  good  and  great  a  man  to 
be  a  bigot.  Many  of  his  relatives  and  intimate 
friends  were  members  of  other  communions.  His 
brother-in-law  is  Bishop  McCoskry,  of  Michigan. 
Kind  and  catholic,  he  was,  nevertheless,  decided, 
intelligent  and  consistent  in  his  preferences  for 
that  church  to  which  he  was  attached.  No  man 
wag  better  acquainted  with  its  history,  polity  and 
order ;  as  no  man,  of  his  age,  had  greater  weight 
in  its  counsels.  Eventful  has  that  period  been,  in 
which  he  was  personally  connected  as  a  minister, 
with  the  Presbyterian  church  in  the  United  States. 
Strong  as  was  his  desire  to  preserve  the  integrity 
of  that  body,  which  was  dear  to  him  by  so  many 
ancestral  associations,  when  disruption  was  made 
inevitable  by  no  act  of  his  or  those  with  whom  he 
was  associated,  he  did  not  hesitate  for  an  instant 
to  what  body  to  give  his  adherence.  From 
that  adherence  he  never  wavered,  but  lived  and 
died  in  the  belief  that  the  right  would  one  day  be 


MEMOIR   OP   THE   AUTHOR. 

vindicated,  and  that  they  who  had  suffered  wrong 
would  be  honoured  and  blessed  at  the  last.  Though 
young  in  years,  Dr.  Mason,  at  that  memorable 
crisis,  was  mature  in  judgment ;  and  when  Kent, 
Wood,  Randall,  and  Meredith  espoused  and  de 
fended  the  cause  of  the  church  to  which  he  was 
attached,  there  was  no  one  more  competent  than 
lie  to  aid  their  proceedings,  none  to  whose  advice 
they  and  his  brethren  paid  so  much  of  respectful 
deference.  Frequently  a  member,  for  eight  years 
he  was  the  stated  clerk  of  the  General  Assembly, 
by  which  means  his  acquaintance  was  extensive 
throughout  the  church,  and  he  was  made  an  ob 
ject  of  general  confidence  and  esteem. 

In  the  judicatories  of  the  church  his  manners  were 
always  retiring,  and  reserved;  never  obtrusive. 
He  was  willing  that  others  should  conduct  the 
debate ;  seldom  participating  in  it,  save  by  some 
brief  suggestion  or  inquiry,  intended  to  give  it  di 
rection,  the  wisdom  and  pertinency  of  which  was 
sure  afterwards  to  be  vindicated.  But  when  the 
matter  in  hand  was  becoming  involved,  and  per 
plexity  and  trouble  were  likely  to  ensue,  how  often, 
like  a  pilot  in  a  difficult  passage,  by  the  introduc 
tion  of  some  resolution,  or  the  suggestion  of  some 
amendment,  did  he  contrive  the  very  relief  which 
was  needed,  covering  the  entire  case,  extricating  the 
subject  from  all  embarrassment,  and  leading  the 


MEMOIR    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 

minds  of  all  to  an  issue  of  complete  harmony.  The 
records  of  our  ecclesiastical  bodies  will  prove  that 
this  eulogy  on  the  soundness  of  his  judgment  is 
not  exaggerated ;  and  when  he  died,  the  general 
impression  throughout  the  church  was,  that  a 
standard-bearer  had  fallen. 

The  person  of  Dr.  Mason,  of  full  size,  and  good 
proportions,  was  the  expression  of  manly  vigour  and 
dignity.  Inheriting  a  sound  constitution,  he  en 
joyed,  through  life,  more  than  ordinary  health. 
He  knew  but  few  of  those  ailments  to  which  his 
profession  are  liable,  previous  to  that  illness  which 
terminated  his  life.  Invited  to  the  presidency 
of  the  Theological  Seminary  in  this  city,  and 
to  other  pulpits  in  his  denomination,  we  have 
seen  how  steadily  and  perseveringly  he  addicted 
himself  to  the  studies  and  toils  of  one  pulpit. 
In  the  year  1846,  at  the  request  of  his  own 
people,  who  generously  provided  their  faithful 
friend  and  pastor  with  the  means  of  relaxation,  he 
passed  several  months  in  Europe,  returning  to  his 
ordinary  occupations  with  renewed  vigor  of  body 
and  mind,  and  fresh  resources  for  instruction. 
Every  thing  appeared  to  promise  a  long  life.  One 
year  before  his  death  no  one  would  have  suspected 
that  an  insidious  disease  had  already  begun  its 
secret  ravages,  by  which  his  labours  were  soon  to 
be  closed.  Returning  from  his  annual  visit  to  the 


MEHOIE    OF    THE    ATJTHOE. 

country,  in  August  1850,  lie  gave  signs  of  debility, 
which  at  first  were  regarded  "but  as  trifles  soon  to 
pass  away,  "but  which,  continuing  from,  day  to  day, 
at  length  excited  the  most  serious  apprehension. 
When  it  was  first  whispered  about  that  Dr.  Mason 
was  in  a  state  to  warrant  solicitude,  he  in  the 
full  prime  of  life,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  the 
rumour  could  be  credited.  Weeks  and  months 
passed  by,  and  his  friends,  brethren  and  people 
were  gladdened  by  his  apparent  recovery.  He 
was  intensely  desirous,  should  God  so  will,  to  re 
sume  those  occupations  to  which  he  had  been  so 
long  and  pleasantly  devoted.  Having  sufficiently 
recovered  for  the  purpose,  in  the  last  of  December 
he  prepared  a  sermon  from  the  text,  "  I  said,  O  my 
God,  take  me  not  away  in  the  midst  of  my  days," 
the  same  which  is  now  published  as  the  first  in  the 
accompanying  collection.  Though  no  one  who 
heard  that  sermon  could  fail  to  apply  the  utterance 
of  its  text  to  himself,  yet,  with  his  characteristic 
modesty,  the  preacher  made  not  an  allusion  to  his 
own  case.  Unable  to  endure  the  fatigue  of  stand 
ing,  during  its  delivery,  a  chair  had  been  arranged 
in  the  pulpit,  seated  in  which,  with  a  voice  tremu 
lous  with  emotion,  he  preached  his  last  sermon. 
There  was  eloquence  in  the  occasion  itself;  and  the 
simple  utterance  of  the  text  was  enough  to  start 
the  tear  in  the  eye  of  those  who  heard  it  with 


MEMOIR    OF   THE    AUTHOE.  rxlvil 

k. 

mingled  gratitude  and  foreboding.  Sucli  was  his 
last  "  New  Year's  Sermon,"  sucli  his  last  entrance  to 
his  pulpit.  It  was  soon  apparent  that  he  was  gra 
dually  sinking  under  occult  and  insidious  disease 
and  that  his  work  was  finished.  Deprived  of  the 
privilege  of  glorifying  God  in  active  duty,  he  was 
now  called  to  the  higher  and  harder  testimony  of 
passive  endurance.  Confined  to  his  chamber  he 
was  not  without  hope  and  desire  of  recovery. 
Strongly  did  he  desire  to  live  ;  and  who  has  juster 
views  of  the  value  and  desirableness  of  life  than  a 
faithful  Christian  minister !  How  abrupt  the 
change  from  the  "  midst  of  his  days,"  from  plans 
of  study  and  action  yet  incomplete,  to  the  silence 
of  the  sepulchre !  How  could  he  bear  to  say  to 
his  loving,  trusting  family,  hanging  about  him,  that 
he  must  leave  them  without  a  husband,  father  and 
head !  For  their  sakes,  rather  than  his  own,  he 
desired,  if  Grod  should  so  be  pleased,  that  he  might 
be  spared,  even  as  king  Hezekiah  prayed  because 
of  the  church  and  the  country  which  he  loved 
that  he  might  live,  even  after  the  prophet  had  told 
him  he  should  die.  The  conduct  of  Dr.  Mason, 
during  his  long  confinement,  was  characterised  by 
that  calmness  and  firmness  which  always  belonged 
to  him,  but  now  more  than  usually  softened  by  the 
filial  resignation  of  a  religious  sufferer.  More  than 

o  o 

the  splendours  of  genius,  more   than  the  gifts  of 


MEMOIE   OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

eloquence  are  the  simple  words  wliicli  reveal  the 
peace  and  safety  of  the  Christian  believer  in  his 
last  hours.  "  I  have  had  a  long  season  of  trial," 
said  he  to  a  friend,  "  but  I  trust  it  has  not  been  un 
profitable.  I  have  had  many  clear  and  delightful 
views  of  divine  truth." 

Moved  even  to  tears,  he  said,  on  another  occa 
sion,  "  I  have  had  the  most  glorious  and  elevating 
views,  such  as  I  never  expected  to  enjoy  in  this 
world.  It  was  in  the  watches  of  the  night,  and  I 
feared  to  sleep,  lest  I  should  lose  them.  But  a 
dark  cloud  has  since  intervened — less  dark  now 
than  it  has  been.  This,  however,  I  can  say  at  all 
times,  Though  he  slay  me,  I  will  put  my  trust  in 
him.  I  have  no  greater  comfort  than  when,  under 
a  sense  of  utter  unworthiness,  I  lie  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross." 

"  A  matter  of  unspeakable  thankfulness,  is  it," 
said  he,  "  that  we  are  not  left  to  find  a  place  of 
safety  when  the  hand  of  disease  is  upon  us.  I 
trust  that  my  eternal  interests  are  safe,  and  that  in 
the  future  I  have  nothing  to  dread.  I  have  had, 
in  common  with  all  Christians,  sore  spiritual  con 
flicts  ;  but  I  believe  that  the  most  useful  of  my 
labours  have  been  in  connection  with  these  scenes 
of  perplexity  and  trial.  Trials,  I  am  sure,  were 
designed  to  teach  us  to  live  by  faith." 

The  evening  before  his  decease  he  was  informed 


MEMOIK   OF   THE   ATJTHOE.  xlix 

that,  in  the  judgment  of  his  physicians,  he  could 
not  survive  many  hours.  He  inquired  on  what 
facts  his  medical  friends  had  based  their  opinion. 
He  differed  from  them  in  judgment  as  to  certain 
particulars.  "However,"  added  he,  "it  matters 
but  little  as  to  time.  I  am  not  now  to  begin  and 
make  my  preparations.  All  is  safe — all  safe." 

A  friend  at  his  side  repeated  the  familiar  words, 
"  The  Lord  is  my  light  and  salvation,  whom  shall  I 
fear."  Taking  the  sentence  from  her  lips,  he 
completed  it — "  The  Lord  is  the  strength  of  my 
heart,  of  whom  shall  I  be  afraid."  Again  she 
said,  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace," — 
when  he  instantly  finished  the  sentence  with  a 
decided  emphasis — "  whose  mind  is  stayed  on 
thee  ;  because  he  trusteth  in  thee." 

In  the  evening  he  engaged  in  cheerful  conversa 
tion  ;  with  the  utmost  clearness  and  calmness  of 
mind  made  certain  dispositions  of  his  estate,  signed 
his  will,  and  sat  waiting  for  his  great  change  to 
come.  Early  in  the  morning  he  summoned  his 
children  about  him,  and  gave  them  his  last  coun 
sels.  Commending  them  in  solemn  prayer  to  the 
Father  of  Mercies,  he  told  them  that  oftentimes, 
after  preaching  in  the  pulpit,  he  had  retired  to  his 
study,  and  with  inexpressible  anxiety,  had  implored 
in  their  behalf  the  blessings  of  the  everlasting 
covenant. 


1  MEMOIR   OF   THE   ATJTHOB. 

On  the  same  occasion,  addressing  liis  only  son, 
(fourteen  years  of  age)  lie  inquired,  "  Have  you 
thought  what  you  would  wish  to  do  in  the  world  ?" 
The  reply  of  filial  simplicity  and  affection  was— 
"  Father,  I  will  do  whatever  you  wish  me."  "  It 
may  not  be  as  I  wish,"  said  he,  "  but  if  you  are 
prepared  for  it,  my  son,  my  wish  is  that  you  may 
preach  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  It  is 
the  greatest  work,  and  the  best  work.  But 
beware  of  becoming  a  minister,  unless,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  you  are  prepared  for  it." 

The  prayers  of  many  have  ascended  to  God  in 
behalf  of  this  orphan  son,  that  he  may  inherit  his 
father's  gifts  and  graces,  and  that  he  may  prolong 
and  transmit  the  ancestral  honours,  with  which  he 
is  enriched,  in  the  ministry  of  our  Lord. 

His  last  day  on  earth  has  dawned,  and  his  heart 
is  beating  feebler  to  its  rest.  "  Have  you  doubts 
and  fears  ?"  whispered  a  friend.  "  Doubts  !  No. 
Faith  is  every  thing.  It  is  all  bright  and  clear. 
Have  faith."  So  gently  faded  his  life  into  the 
vision  of  God  and  the  Lamb.  About  twelve 
o'clock  on  Wednesday,  14th  of  May,  seated  in  his 
chair,  without  a  struggle,  he  breathed  out  his  life 
into  the  hands  of  his  Redeemer. 

On  the  Friday  following,  his  funeral  was 
attended  from  the  church  in  which  he  had  officia 
ted  so  many  years.  There  needed  to  be  no  such 


MEMOIB   OF  THE   AUTHOB,  11 

signs  of  mourning  as  those  which  draped  the 
pulpit,  now  deprived  of  its  faithful  incumbent,  to 
proclaim  the  sorrow  of  the  occasion.  A  large 
concourse  of  people,  with  unfeigned  grief  in  their 
hearts,  pronounced  his  eulogy  by  testifying  that 
his  death  was  a  public  bereavement.  There,  in 
front  of  the  pulpit,  lay  the  calm  remains  of  the 
Pastor,  who  had  been  brought  to  the  house  of  God 
for  the  last  time,  to  address  his  brethren,  people 
and  friends  in  speechless  tenderness. 

The  dirge  was  sung,  prayer  was  offered,  some 
words  of  consolation  were  uttered,  and  devout 
men  bore  him  to  his  burial.  The  early  spring 
blossoms  were  opening  and  falling  as  he  was  laid 
in  the  sacred  spot  he  had,  a  year  before,  prepared 
at  Greenwood.  The  sun  had  gone  down  before 
the  act  of  interment  was  finished ;  but  we  knew 
that  it  would  rise  again  ;  and  as  we  gazed,  through 
our  tears,  upon  the  descending  form  with  which 
were  associated  so  many  memories  of  friendship, 
love  and  religion,  this  was  our  only  consolation, 
that  he  would  live  the  life  everlasting. 

Through  the  generous  regard  cherished  for  his 
memory  by  his  parishioners,  a  beautiful  monument 
of  white  Italian  marble,  chaste  and  simple  in 
design,  but  highly  finished  in  its  execution,  has 
been  erected  on  the  spot  where  sleep  his  remains. 
On  one  side  is  the  following  inscription : 


Hi  MEMOIE   OF   THE   AUTIIOE. 

ERECTED 

BY  THE  BLESCKER  STREET  PRESBYTERIAN  CH3RCH, 

IN    MEMORY  OP 

THEIR  LATE  PASTOR, 

EEV.  ERSKINE  MASON,  D.D. 
DIED  14  MAT,  1851, 

JET.  46. 
AN  ELOQUENT  MAN,  AND  MIGHTY  IN  THE  SCRIPTURES, 

IN  DOCTRINE 
SHOWING  UNCORRUPTNESS,  GRAVITY,  SINCERITY, 

SOUND    SPEECH   THAT   COULD    NOT  BE  CONDEMNED  ; 

A  PATTERN  OF  GOOD  WORKS ; 

LOOKING 

FOR   THAT    BLESSED    HOPE,   THE   GLORIOUS   APPEARING   OP    THE    GREAT 
GOD,   AND    OUR   SAVIOUR,   JESUS    CHRIST. 

On  the  reverse  side  : 

DESCENDED 

FROM    ANCESTORS    ILLUSTRIOUS   IN   THE    CHRISTIAN    CHURCH, 

He  was  Himself 

AN    OENAMENT 

TO    EVERY    DOMESTIC    AND    SOCIAL   RELATION. 

Ill  the  Spanish  gallery  of  the  Louvre  at  Paris,  there 
hangs  a  celebrated  picture  by  Murillo,  founded  on  an 
old  legend,  which  represents  that  a  certain  monk  was 


MEMOIR   OF   THE   AUTHOR.  till 

called  to  die,  when  engaged  in  writing  liis  own  bio 
graphy.  Grieved  at  the  abrupt  termination  of  his 
unfinished  task,  the  fiction  goes,  that  he  sought  and 
obtained  permission  to  return  to  the  earth  to  com 
plete  his  work.  "Wonderful  is  the  power  with 
which  the  immortal  artist  has  embodied  the  con 
ception.  There  is  the  monk  seated  in  his  cell,  in 
tent  on  his  solemn  toil.  It  is  not  the  ghastly  face 
and  form  of  the  dead,  but  the  conception  of  a  man 
who  has  been  dead,  and  who  has  returned  etherial- 
ised  and  vivified  through  and  through  with  the  life 
and  motives  of  Eternity. 

That  legendary  fiction  will  have  no  reality  with 
any.  No  one  who  goeth  hence  returns  to  finish 
the  work  of  life.  But  there  is  intensity  of  motive 
enough  in  the  sober  truth  that  every  man  is  actu 
ally  engaged  day  by  day  in  writing  that  autobiog 
raphy,  which  neither  time  nor  eternity  will  efface. 
It  may  be  written  in  high  places  or  in  low,  in  pub 
lic  remembrance  or  in  the  honest  heart  of  domestic 
affection,  but  we  are  writing  fast,  we  are  writing 
sure,  we  are  writing  for  eternity.  Happy  is  he 
who,  through  the  grace  of  God  assisting  him,  like 
the  subject  of  this  memoir,  records  such  lessons 
of  kindness,  truth  and  wisdom,  that  when  he  is 
gone,  he  will  be  held  in  grateful  remembrance ; 
happier  still  to  have  one's  name  written  in  the 


llV  MEMOIR   OF  THE   AUTHOE. 

Lamb's  Book  of  Life,  tliat  when  every  memorial 
and  monument  of  his  earthly  history  has  perished, 
he  may  ascend  with  the  Son  of  God,  to  Honour, 
Glory,  and  Immortality. 


DEATH  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  LIFE. 


"I  said,  0  my  Lord,  take  me  not  away  in  the  midst  of  my  days." 
— PSALM  cii.   24,  first  clause. 

I  SHALL  not  trouble  my  hearers  upon  the  present 
occasion,  with  any  enquiries  as  to  the  authorship  of 
the  Psalm  from  which  my  text  is  selected,  nor  as 
to  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  originally 
uttered.  Whether  designed  to  represent  the  pri 
vate  experience  of  the  writer,  or  to  exhibit  the  low 
and  depressed  condition  of  the  church  in  time  of 
great  trial,  is  immaterial  to  the  purpose  I  have  in 
view,  which  is  to  brins;  out,  and  for  a  few  moments 

'  O  ' 

insist  upon  a  thought,  which  lies  upon,  the  very 
surface  of  the  passage  before  us. 

As  we  read  our  text,  we  perceive  it  to  be  a 
prayer,  an  earnest,  impassioned  prayer,  a  prayer 
against  death;  and  the  fact  which  gives  it  its 
earnestness  and  impassioned  energy,  is  that  he  who 
offers  it  is  in  "  the  midst  of  his  clays."  There  is  a 
peculiarity  then  about  death  coming  in  the  prime 
of  life,  which  does  not  belong  to  it  at  any  other 
time,  or  in  any  other  circumstances,  and  which 
1 


2  DEATH   IN   THE    MIDST    OF    LIFE. 

renders  it  especially  repulsive  and  terrible.  True 
it  is  that  to  one  at  all  alive  to  its  connections,  it 
must,  at  any  time,  be  appreciated  with  the  most 
painful  emotions.  To  one  standing  upon  the  thresh- 
hold  of  life,  or  farther  advanced  engaged  in  active 
business,  engrossed  with  earthly  cares,  or  when  the 
bustle  and  anxiety  of  the  world,  so  far  as  he  is  con 
cerned,  are  over,  whether  he  be  in  health  and  pros 
perity,  when  life  is  most  joyous,  or  in  sickness  and 
adversity,  when  many  of  the  strongest  ties  to  earth 
are  sundered,  it  is  still  the  same  repulsive  subject 
of  thought,  never  able  to  command  a  welcome  from 
the  human  mind.  Youth  dreads  it,  manhood  dreads 
it,  old  age  dreads  it,  sickness  and  health  alike 
dread  it ;  and  while  irreligion  trembles,  faith 
itself  is  sometimes  staggered  in  view  of  it. 

There  are,  however,  some  circumstances  in  whicli 
death  is  less  terrible  than  it  is  in  others.  When 
the  ties  that  bind  us  to  earth  are  few,  and  the 
considerations  which  render  life  valuable  are  feeble, 
the  desire  to  live  cannot  be  strong.  Disappointed 
hopes,  defeated  plans,  withered  joys,  enfeebled 
frames,  taking  so  much  as  they  do  from  the  bright 
ness,  and  promise  of  the  world,  must,  proportiona- 
bly,  weaken  our  wishes  to  remain  amid  its  scenes ; 
if  to  this  you  add,  a  weanedness  from  the  world 
upon  principle,  an  expectation  of  death ;  and 
satisfactory  evidence  of  a  preparation  to  meet  its 
issues,  you  have  a  condition  in  which  it  loses  to  the 
mind  much  of  its  terror. 

But  in  the  light  in  which  we  now  look  at  it, 
there  are  none  of  these  considerations  to  take  aught 


DEATH   IN   THE   MIDST    OF   LIFE.  3 

from  its  horrors.  It  is  death  coming  to  one  in  the 
prime  of  life,  in  his  full  strength,  and  in  circum 
stances  in  which  it  is  least  expected ;  coming  when 
the  dangers  of  youth  are  over,  when  the  system 
has  reached  its  maturity,  when  the  world  is  in 
vested  with  the  greatest  degree  of  importance, 
when  man  thinks  he  is  about  to  take  that  position 
to  which  he  had  long  looked  forward,  and  to  which 
all  his  previous  training  and  labours  have  been  but 
preparatory.  It  is  death  coming  to  one  who  had 
not  in  his  dreams  even  looked  upon  it  to  be  possi 
ble  as  an  immediate  event,  and  who  having  been 
at  ease  and  quiet  in  reference  to  it,  has  made  no 
preparation  to  meet  its  issues.  This  is  death  in  its 
most  appalling  form.  There  are  here  no  disgusts 
with  life,  no  disappointed  hopes,  no  enfeebled 
frames,  no  tottering  steps,  to  make  this  world  un 
desirable,  and  there  is  no  sympathy  in  the  spiritual 
things  to  make  the  coming  world  attractive :  and  O 
how  many,  how  many  even  among  ourselves  to-day, 
are  there  to  whom  death,  should  he  now  approach, 
would  he  be  thus  appalling  ! 

I  put  the  question  to  my  hearers  in  middle  life, 
are  your  views,  feelings,  purposes,  circumstances, 
such  as  you  would  wish  them,  to  be  in  the  hour  of 
your  departure  to  meet  your  God  ?  I  speak  to-day 
upon  the  supposition  that  men  in  middle  life  are 
very  apt  to  look  upon  death  as  an  improbable 
event,  so  far  as  they  are  concerned,  and  to  make 
their  calculations,  and  shape  their  course  accord 
ingly.  This  is  the  fact  upon  which  I  would  fasten 


4  DEATH    IN    THE   MIDST   OF   LIFE. 

your  minds,  showing  you  some  of  its  reasons,  and 
pointing  out  some  of  its  effects. 

I  oifer  then  here,  this  general  remark,  that  with 
no  class  of  men  is  the  desire  for  life  so  strong  as 
those  of  whom  we  are  speaking ;  and  knowing  as  we 
do  the  influence  of  desire  over  belief,  how  con 
clusive  seem  those  arguments  which  conform  to 
our  feelings,  we  cannot  be  surprised  to  find  the  im 
probability  of  dying  assumed  as  a  settled  matter. 
True,  the  mere  wish  to  live  is  not  confined  to  any  par 
ticular  age  or  condition  of  human  life.  The  youth 
who  is  just  coming  forward  upon  the  stage  of  action, 
clings  with  tenacity  to  his  earthly  existence,  while 
the  aged  man,  of  whom  it  may  be  said,  that  the  days 
have  come  and  the  years  drawn  nigh  in  which  he  has 
no  pleasure,  looks  forward  to  his  approaching  dissolu 
tion  with  feelings  of  great  reluctance.  In  both  these 
cases,  more  especially  in  the  last,  the  desire  for  life 
seems  to  be  instinctive,  rather  than  the  result  of 
any  reasoning  from  external  circumstances  and 
relations.  Childhood  has  scarcely  reached  the 
point  when  the  strongest  reasons  for  a  wish  to  live 
have  begun  to  operate.  Old  age  has  passed  the 
point  where  their  influence  terminates. 

But  the  man  in  middle  life  has  reached  that 
point,  where  all  these  reasons  are  perceived  most 
clearly,  and  their  influence  is  felt  most  deeply. 
There  is  something  more  than  a  mere  instinctive 
desire  of  life  which  makes  him  cling  to  his  earthly 
existence.  There  are  reasons  taken  from  his  cir 
cumstances  and  relations,  which  render  life  to  him 
very  important.  The  ties  which  bind  him  to  the 


DEATH    IN   THE    MIDST    OF    LIFE.  5 

world  are  now  the  strongest.  Hithereto,  his 
earthly  associations  had  been  few  and  ephemeral. 
There  are  scarcely  any  responsibilities  involved  in 
the  connections  of  youth,  and  though  in  these  con 
nections,  the  feelings  may  be  ardent,  they  are  tran 
sient.  A  change  of  place,  and  breaking  np  of 
associations,  does  not  seem  to  be  a  matter  of  great 
importance  to  a  youthful  mind,  because  it  can  so 
easily  adjust  itself  to  the  new  circumstances  into 
which  it  may  be  thrown.  In  old  age  the  con 
nections  of  society  have  been  dissolved  by  the  hand 
of  time ;  most  of  those  with  whom  our  old  men 
mingled  their  sympathies  and  counsels  are  gone, 
while  they  who  once  were  dependent  upon  them 
no  longer  need  their  care  and  support. 

But  it  is  very  different  with  a  man  in  the  vigor 
of  life.  He  has  taken  his  place  in  society,  and  is 
n,ow  sustaining  his  most  important  earthly  respon 
sibilities.  His  connections  now  are  most  intimate, 
his  attachments  most  strong,  his  associations  most 
enduring.  He  is  surrounded  by  those  who  depend 
upon  him  for  support,  submit  to  his  control,  and 
look  to  him  for  counsel.  He  is  the  centre  of  his 
family,  of  the  social  circle,  and  alive  to  all  those 
great  interests  which  excite  the  attention  and  en 
gage  the  feelings  of  the  community.  His  place  is 
in  the  hall  of  science,  in  the  chamber  of  legislation, 
among  those  who  sustain  the  interests  and  carry 
forward  the  designs  of  society.  Mind  now  is  most 
active,  and  active,  not  about  the  pastimes  of 
youth,  but  about  matters  essential  to  the  welfare 
of  himself,  of  his  connections,  and  the  community 


6  DEATH    IN    THE    JMIDST    OF   LIFE. 

at  large.  I  need  hardly  say  that  these  are  the  cir 
cumstances  in  which  life  not  only  appears  to  be, 
but  actually  is,  most  important  to  man  and  to 
society  generally.  Death  never  is  more  melan 
choly  in  its  aspect  than  when  it  takes  one  away 
from  amid  the  necessary  activities  of  human  life- 
The  youth  dies,  and  the  parental  heart  feels  the 
pang,  and  may  drop  a  tear  over  departed  worth. 
The  aged  sire  dies,  and  the  recollection  of  former 
counsels  and  activities  and  deeds  of  goodness  de 
presses  the  spirit,  but  the  whole  machinery  of  the 
domestic  circle  and  of  society  goes  on  as  usual,  and 
so  far  as  essential  interests  are  concerned,  the  loss 
in  these  cases  is  scarcely  felt. 

But  when  one  dies  in  the  midst  of  his  days,  the 
case  is  vastly  different ;  now  essential  interests  suf 
fer  ;  from  many  their  entire  earthly  dependence  is 
removed ;  the  main  spring  of  the  domestic  machin 
ery  is  gone,  and  in  the  varied  relations  of  life,  his 
place  must  be  supplied  before  the  interest  of  those 
relations  can  be  well  sustained. 

To  this  we  might  add,  that  the  spirit  of  enter- 
prize  is  now  most  active.  Man  is  forming  plans 
which  will  require  years  to  develope,  and  those 
plans  constitute  the  objects  of  his  existence,  the 
centre  of  his  heart's  warmest  feelings.  You  cannot 
go  out  amid  the  busy  scenes  of  life,  and  find  a  man 
in  his  prime,  whom  death  suddenly  arresting,  should 
not  carry  away  from  unfinished  plans  and  unexe 
cuted  purposes.  Generally  men  calculate  upon  the 
completion  of  their  designs,  and  upon  receiving  the 
fruit  of  their  labour ;  very  few  sow  when  they  do 


DEATH   IIS"   THE    MIDST    OF    LIFE.  7 

not  expect  to  reap,  or  engage  in  plans  which  are  to 
bring  them  no  profit :  and  hence  it  is  that  our  men 
in  middle  life  calculate  with  almost  perfect  cer 
tainty  upon  a  continuance  in  this  world  ;  they  can 
not  think  that  their  main  designs  shall  never  be 
executed,  and  their  favourite  points  never  reached, 
and  they  suffer  their  wishes  to  run  away  with  their 
judgments,  and  presume  in  accordance  with  the 
dictates  of  their  hearts. 

It  is  not  to  be  denied,  my  brethren,  that  there  is 
not  a  little  in  the  history  of  man  which  tends  to 
foster  this  very  state  of  mind.  Judging  from  the 
ordinary  developments  of  Divine  Providence,  we 
should  be  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  securi 
ties  against  death,  and  what  are  commonly  termed 
the  chances  of  life,  are  greater  in  manhood  than  at 
any  other  period  of  existence ;  and  the  scenes 
through  which  we  have  passed  ere  we  reached  man 
hood  have  been  such  as  to  lead  us  to  estimate  these 
securities  too  highly.  It  is  a  fact,  I  apprehend, 
that  fewer  men  die  at  the  meridian  than  at  any 
other  point  in  human  life.  The  majority  of  our 
species  are  gone  from  the  stage  of  action  before 
they  reach  their  prime,  and  of  the  remainder,  the 
larger  proportion  die  after  they  have  passed  their 
prime.  This  fact,  I  apprehend,  can  point  to  both 
natural  and  moral  causes  in  its  explanation.  At 
middle  life  the  human  system  has  attained  its 
greatest  strength ;  is  less  liable  to  many  of  those 
accidents,  and  better  able  to  resist  many  of  those 
diseases  which  carry  off  so  many  of  our  race.  The 
habits  of  life  too  are  formed,  and  where  they  have 


8  DEATH    IN   THE   MIDST    OF    LIFE. 

been  habits  favourable  to  health,  they  will  be 
favourable  to  its  continuance  or  to  the  recovery 
from  disease. 

The  interests  of  the  world,  moreover,  could  not 
be  sustained  under  a  different  character  of  dispen 
sations,  and  the  purposes  of  God,  which,  according 
to  his  arrangement,  require  human  agency  for 
their  evolution,  could  not  be  accomplished.  Thus, 
the  order  of  nature  evinces  no  less  the  wisdom  than 
the  goodness  of  God. 

These  facts  have  not  failed  to  secure  the  atten 
tion  of  men,  and  they  form  the  ground  of  their  cal 
culations  in  reference  to  life.  They  have  passed 
through  the  scenes  of  childhood,  been  exposed  to 
a  thousand  snares,  been  environed  by  as  many 
changes.  Many  have  been  cut  down  on  their  right 
hand  and  their  left,  but  they  have  escaped  un 
harmed,  and  begin  to  feel  as  though  they  had  a 
lease  of  life.  Familiarity  with  danger  blunts  our 
apprehensions.  If  we  have  escaped  evil  and  death  in 
circumstances  of  great  exposure,  we  think  we  shall 
escape  again ;  and  after  having  passed  the  point 
where  our  danger  was  the  greatest,  because  the 
point  previous  to  which  death  usually  secures  the 
greatest  number  of  its  victims,  we  feel  as  though 
we  were,  for  a  time,  at  least,  delivered  from  his 
power. 

Now,  I  repeat  it,  putting  all  these  considerations 
together,  it  is  not  surprising  that  men  in  "  the 
midst  of  their  days"  should  think  so  little  of  death, 
and  be  so  callous  to  its  impressive  influence  ;  but  it 
is  dreadful  that  it  should  be  so,  because  we  are 


DEATH   IN   THE   MIDST    OF   LIFE.  9 

forced  to  another  thought,  viz. :  of  all  men,  they 
who  are  "  in  the  midst  of  their  days,"  are  least  pre 
pared  to  die.  There  are  exceptions,  unquestionably, 
to  this  statement ;  but  as  a  general  remark,  its 
truth  must  be  perfectly  apparent  to  any  one  of 
observation  and  discernment.  You  will  find  its 
illustration  as  well  among  the  professed  disciples  of 
Christ  as  among  those  who  make  no  pretensions 
whatever  to  spirituality  of  mind.  Many  a  one, 
who  in  his  early  days  appeared  well  as  a  Christian, 
as  he  has  advanced  in  years  and  become  gradually 
more  and  more  involved  in  the  cares  and  perplexi 
ties  of  life,  has  lost  his  fervor  in  religion  and  found 
his  spirituality  declining,  simply  because  the  en 
grossing  occupations  of  earth  have  drawn  away  his 
attention  from  things  appertaining  to  the  kingdom 
of  God.  Of  this  change  many  a  one  is  himself  dis 
tinctly  conscious.  He  is  aware  that  in  a  spiritual 
point  of  view  matters  are  not  with  him  as  they  for 
merly  were ;  if  death  should  approach,  he  should 
have  much  to  adjust,  many  questions  to  settle,  many 
fears,  many  anxieties,  many  doubts  to  solve ;  in 
short,  he  knows  his  preparation  for  death  is  not 
what  it  should  be,  because  he  has  not  been  looking 
for  it.  My  Christian  brother,  let  me  appeal  to  you 
upon  this  point  in  a  single  question.  Had  your 
earthly  history  terminated  with  the  winding  up  of 
the  last  year,  should  you  have  known  in  your  expe 
rience  the  blessedness  of  that  servant  whom  his 
Lord  when  he  cometh  finds  watching  ?  Take  that 
question  home,  and  justify  me  in  the  position  I  have 
assumed. 


10  DEATH   IN   THE   MIDST    OF   LIFE. 

If  the  truth  of  iny  remark  is  evident,  even  in 
the  cases  of  the  professed  disciples  of  Christ,  much 
more  apparent  must  it  be  in  reference  to  those  who 
know  nothing  of  the  spiritual  influence  of  the 
gospel.  If  my  unconverted  hearers  in  middle  life 
will  look  into  their  own  hearts  and  observe  their 
emotions  and  feelings,  they  will  not  judge  me  un 
charitable  in  the  remark,  that  the  world  never  had 
such  a  hold  upon  their  affections,  never  to  such  a 
degree  controlled  their  purposes  and  movements, 
never  so  completely  shut  out  all  spiritual  light  from 
the  mind,  never  rendered  them  so  dead  to  the 
claims  and  appeals  of  the  gospel,  and  so  insensible 
to  the  enforcement  of  heavenly  things,  as  at  the 
present  moment. 

There  is  one  fact  which  speaks  volumes  upon 
this  general  subject,  going  to  show  the  prevalent 
state  of  mind  belonging  to  the  persons  of  whom  we 
speak.  That  fact  is  this,  that  the  legitimate  effects 
of  the  Gospel  are  very  rarely  seen  for  the  first 
time  in  persons  who  are  passing  through  the  meri 
dian  of  life.  This  seems  to  be  a  period  in  human 
existence,  when  the  Spirit  of  God,  I  will  not  say 
seldom  strives  with  men,  but  when  he  seldom 
achieves  any  signal  victories.  For  the  most  part, 
men  are  brought  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before 
they  reach  manhood,  while  a  few  after  they  have 
passed  their  prime  are  awakened  by  some  provi 
dential  dispensation,  and  hasten  to  secure  an  interest 
in  Christ.  The  young  have  ears  to  hear  the  truth, 
consciences  to  respond  to  its  claims,  and  hearts 
susceptible  to  its  impressive  power ;  but  the  ears  of 


DEATH   IN   THE   MIDST   OF   LIFE.  11 

others  are  closed  against  us,  and  their  minds  are 
too  full  of  earth  to  entertain  the  truth  of  God,  and 
their  hearts  too  much  under  the  influence  of  the 
world,  to  be  susceptible  of  impressions  from,  spirit 
ual  realities.  All  the  means  of  grace  seem  to  be 
powerless,  and  it  is  looked  upon  as  a  signal  mani 
festation  of  the  grace  of  God,  when  one  of  their 
class  is  brought  to  submit  himself  to  Christ. 

I  speak  that  which  I  do  know,  and  testify  that 
which  I  have  seen ;  and  if  these  thoughts  are  cor 
rect,  it  follows  of  necessity,  that  they  to  whom  they 
appertain  are  of  all  men  least  prepared  to  die. 

And  O  !  how  such  thoughts  should  arouse  to 
feeling,  awaken  to  anxiety,  and  prompt  to  enquiry, 
all  to  whom  they  have  reference.  My  beloved 
brethren,  security  is  not  safety,  insensibility  to 
danger  is  no  guard  against  its  approach.  You  may 
mingle  in  any  scenes,  you  may  engage  in  wide 
spread  business,  you  may  form  extensive  associations, 
and  assume  weighty  responsibilities, — you  have 
no  protection  against  death,  in  any  or  all  of  these 
combined.  Others  who  have  gone  from  the  stage 
have  told  you  so,  they  have  fallen  from  your  side, 
from  amid  the  scenes  in  which  you  are  now  en 
gaged,  and  the  associations  amid  which  you  are 
now  moving ;  and  as  they  fell,  their  fall  was  Provi 
dence  teaching  you  the  worthlessness  of  all  your 
confidences.  Put  all  the  grounds  of  your  security 
together,  they  are  valueless,  they  are  worse,  they 
serve  only  to  render  one's  end  the  more  terrible 
when  he  reaches  it. 

"VVe  may,  my  brethren,  wrap  ourselves  up  in  un- 


12  DEATH   IN   THE   MIDST   OF   LIFE. 

concern  about  this  matter,  but  we  cannot  put  away 
from  us  a  dying  hour  by  closing  our  eyes  against  it, 
neither  can  we,  by  any  insensibility,  detract  from 
the  magnitude  of  eternal  realities.  The  scene  of 
our  departure  from  this  world  is  not  to  be  delayed 
by  any  unconcern  of  ours  about  it,  or  any  unfitness 
on  our  part  to  meet  its  issues  ;  and  if,  when  it  conies, 
it  shall  find  us  in  a  state  of  indifference  and  security, 
how  inexpressibly  fearful  will  be  its  approach. 
Let  death  come  at  any  time,  in  any  circumstance, 
under  any  form,  but  let  it  not  come  upon  man 
when  he  thinks  least  of  it,  and  is  consequently 
least  prepared  to  meet  it,  when}  perhaps,  it  is  the 
last  event  which  he  dreamed  of  as  at  all  probable. 
Here  it  has  associations,  the  sorrows  of  which  no 
tongue  can  describe,  because  no  mind  can  conceive 
them.  Defeated  plans,  disappointed  hopes,  blasted 
joys,  form  but  few,  and  those  the  least  bitter  of  the 
ingredients  of  the  cup  which  it  puts  to  the  lips. 
Now,  in  an  unexpected  hour,  eternal  things  come 
before  him,  in  such  a  light  that  he  can  doubt  neither 
their  reality  nor  their  magnitude,  and  now  he  must 
prepare  to  meet  them  with  a  mind  surprised, 
alarmed,  harassed  ;  and  too  often  self-reflection 
triumphs  over  every  other  feeling,  and  the  unhappy 
man,  amid  his  convictions  and  reproaches,  his  self- 
reflections  and  his  fears,  finds  the  ties  which  bind 
him  to  this  world  parting,  and  his  surprised  and 
unprepared  spirit  winging  its  flight  to  the  presence 
of  a  forgotten  God. 

These  are  not  strange  and  unusual  scenes ;  they 
have  been,  they  are  common.     The  history  of  the 


DEATH   IN   THE   MIDST    OF    LIFE.  13 

last  year  keeps  the  record  of  many  of  them,  and  the 
year  upon  which  we  have  entered,  will  but  repeat 
them.  I  look  back  over  the  past  year,  and  I  find 
that  death,  in  the  circle  of  our  companionship, 
death  in  the  midst  of  us  as  a  congregation,  has  been 
very  impressive  in  the  lessons  it  has  taught  us, 
however  slow  we  may  be  to  learn  them.  Yet  it  is 
ours  to  ponder  them,  and  turn  them  to  a  practical 
account.  During  the  past  year,  nine  who  were 
with  us  at  its  commencement,  have  closed  their 
earthly  career.  As  I  cast  my  eye  over  this  assem 
bly,  I  miss  the  youth  who  occupied  his  seat  here  on 
the  first  Sabbath  of  the  last  year,  and  who  little 
thought  that  the  warning  which  then  we  uttered 
was  meant  for  him.  I  miss  our  aged  friends  who 
had  filled  up  the  measure  of  their  days.  And 
there  have  been  those  who  were  carried  away 
in  the  midst  of  their  days,  whom  no  effort  could 
deliver,  no  prayer  save  from  the  power  of  death. 

And  that  which  has  been  shall  be.  This  year  will 
bring  about  like  events ;  some  of  my  youthful 
hearers  will  be  gone ;  of  our  fathers  we  shall  say, 
where  are  they  ?  and  ye  who  are  in  the  vigour  of 
your  days,  secure  against  danger,  ye  too  must  pay 
your  tribute  to  the  king  of  terrors,  by  yielding 
some  of  your  members  a  sacrifice  to  his  claims. 

But  while  thus  I  utter  my  warning,  I  feel  that  it 
is  in  vain.  In  respect  to  death,  nothing  but  the 
influence  of  God's  spirit  can  teach  us  to  apply  our 
hearts  unto  wisdom.  The  coffin  will  not  teach  us 
wisdom  here,  the  grave  will  not  teach  it,  pestilence 
will  not  teach  it.  Thou,  O  God,  and  thou  alone 


41  DEATH   IN   THE   MIDST    OF   LIFE. 

canst  make  us  feel  that  we  are  mortal,  so  that  we 
shall  live  like  the  immortal,  and,  therefore,  while 
we  feel  that  argument  is  in  vain,  and  exhortation 
is  in  vain,  and  appeal  is  in  vain,  we  turn  from  rea 
soning,  and  expostulation,  and  pleading,  to  prayer 
as  our  only  hope.  Now  as  we  enter  upon  another 
year,  not  knowing  what  is  before  us,  we  turn  to 
thee,  O  Lord  God  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh.  The 
young  are  before  thee,  the  middle-aged  are  before 
thee,  our  fathers  are  before  thee,  pastor  and  people 
alike  are  before  thee :  "  God  of  the  spirit  of  all  flesh, 
so  teach  us  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  apply 
our  hearts  unto  wisdom." 


THE  NATURE  JAND  DESIGN  OF  THE  CRUCIFIXION 

SCENE. 


"  And  when  Jesus  had  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  ho  said,  Father  into 
thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit,  and  having  said  this,  he  gave  up  the 
ghost." — ST.  LUKE  xxiii.  16. 

"  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me." — ST.  MATTHEW 
xxvii.  46. 


THE  words  of  the  text  carry  us  directly  to  Cal 
vary,  a  spot  which  we  can  never  too  frequently 
visit,  and  where  the  Christian  loves  to  linger,  espe 
cially  when  called  upon,  as  we  are  this  day,  to 
remember  the  scenes  which  were  there  presented. 
In  the  description  which  they  give  us  of  the  re 
markable,  and  to  many,  mysterious  close  of  the 
life  of  Jesus  Christ,  they  suggest  lessons,  which, 
often  as  we  have  pondered  them,  we  have  never 
yet  fully  learned,  and  open  sources  of  influence, 
the  extent  and  power  of  which  we  have  yet  to 
measure.  Indeed  there  is  scarcely  a  line  in  the  his 
tory  of  Jesus  Christ  which  is  not  as  instructive  as 
it  is  wonderful.  The  annals  of  the  universe  will 
not  furnish  a  parallel  to  the  story  of  "  the  man  of 


16  NATURE   AND    DESIGN   OF 

sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief."  He  presents 
himself  first  to  our  view  as  one,  who  though  he 

I  O 

was  "  in  the  form  of  God,"  emptied  himself  "  and 
took  upon  him"  the  form  of  man,  and  thus  is  intro 
duced  to  our  attention  in  an  act  of  humiliation  which 
is  beyond  the  power  of  human  thought  to  under 
stand.  As  we  cannot  ascend  to  the  throne,  mea 
sure  its  height,  or  form  any  conceptions  of  its 
grandeur,  we  cannot  tell  how  great  was  the  humilia 
tion  of  Christ  Jesus,  when  he  descended  to  the 
level  of  his  creatures ;  as  his  previous  glory  is  inac 
cessible  to  our  soarings,  it  must  always  remain  a 
prodigy  too  large  for  anything  but  faith  to  grasp, 
that  he  who  was  "  in  the  form  of  God  took  upon 
him  the  form  of  man." 

And  yet  this  fact,  surprizing  as  it  is,  does  not  con 
stitute  the  wonder  of  Christ's  humiliation ;  the 
marvel  is  not  merely  that  he  became  man,  but  that 
having  become  man,  he  should  put  himself  in  man's 
most  forbidding  circumstances,  clothe  himself  with 
human  nature  in  its  greatest  meanness,  submit  to 
its  greatest  hardships,  endure  its  heaviest  trials,  and 
submit,  both  in  life  and  death,  to  its  greatest  igno 
miny.  The  scene  of  his  earthly  course,  is,  in  its 
commencement,  contempt  and  privation ;  in  its  pro 
gress,  toil  and  shame  ;  in  its  end,  agony  and  degra 
dation.  The  changes  in  his  experience,  were  not, 
as  is  customary  even  with  the  most  wretched  of 
our  race,  alternations  of  joy  and  sorrow,  but 
changes  from  sorrow  to  sorrow,  each  succeeding 
one  deeper  in  its  shades  than  the  former,  and  as  we 
look  at  the  map  of  his  life,  we  perceive  the  plot 


THE    CRUCIFIXION   SCENE.  I 

tliickening  and  the  darkness  increasing  daily  and 
hourly  around  him.  His  whole  course  betokens  a 
dreadful  consummation ;  all  the  lines  of  conduct 
pursued  by  himself,  and  by  those  who  surround  him, 
seem  to  converge  towards  one  fearful  catastrophe, 
which  when  reached,  surpasses  in  wonderfulness 
everything  which  preceded  it.  We  can  understand 
in  view  of  his  objects  and  his  course,  why  he  should 
be  persecuted  by  the  men  of  his  generation ;  our 
knowledge  of  human  nature  may  serve  to  explain  to 
us,  why  in  the  hour  of  his  trial  he  should  be  aban 
doned  by  his  professed  friends ;  but  why,  why, 
when  he  most  needed  Heaven's  sympathy  and 
Heaven's  help,  why,  when  heart  and  flesh  fainted 
and  failed,  why,  when  all  the  resources  of  human 
comfort  and  human  strength  were  exhausted,  and 
he  was  sinking  under  a  burden  too  heavy  for  him 
to  bear,  why  in  such  an  hour,  he  should  be  for 
saken  of  God,  this  forms  the  great  wonder  of  a 
Redeemer's  humiliation. 

Not  one  of  us,  my  brethren,  has  ever  pondered 
this  event,  without  feeling  that  there  is  a  mystery 
here  which  needs  an  explanation.  It  is  not  that  a 
person  from  whose  lips  dropped  words  of  unutterable 
tenderness,  who  rarely  spoke  but  to  bless  the  sor 
row-stricken,  or  acted  but  to  relieve  the  distressed, 
should  be  selected  as  an  object  upon  which  to 
wreak  the  fury  of  a  spirit  which,  for  cool,  cruel 
and  devilish  barbarity,  has  never  yet  found  its 
parallel ;  this  is  not  the  mystery  ;  but  it  is  that  he 
who  did  no  sin,  and  in  whose  mouth  no  guile  was 
found,  whose  meat  it  was  to  do  the  will  of  his 
2 


18  NATURE    AND    DESIGN    OF 

Heavenly  Father,  who  by  "  signs  and  wonders,  and 
diverse  miracles"  had  been  accredited  as  the  mes 
senger  of  God,  and  by  an  audible  voice  had  been 
announced  as  his  only  begotten  and  well-beloved 
Son,  should  at  last  die  under  a  cloud,  and  utter  in 
his  last  words  a  lamentation  over  his  spiritual  aban 
donment  ;  this  is  the  mystery  of  that  event  which 
to-day  we  commemorate,  and  to  which  in  this  exer 
cise  I  shall  call  your  attention. 

My  subject,  I  am  aware,  has  not  about  it  any  of 
the  attractive  charms  of  novelty.  We  have  often 
pondered  it ;  and  we  all  have  its  outlines,  at  least, 
distinctly  before  the  mind,  and  yet  I  am  persuaded 
that  the  views  with  which  many  fill  up  this  out 
line,  are  at  best  exceedingly  vague,  if  they  are  not 
often  palpably  erroneous,  and  that,  consequently, 
the  influence  of  the  scene  is  in  a  great  measure  lost. 
To  a  certain  extent,  perhaps,  our  views  must  be 
limited  and  indistinct ;  inquiries  may  be  started 
which  can  be  fully  answered  only  when  the  light  of 
a  better  world  shall  disclose  all  the  mysteries  of  re 
demption  ;  and  yet,  without  attempting  to  be  wise 
above  what  is  written,  we  may  learn  something  by 
a  patient  examination  ;  something  which,  even  if  it 
does  not  add  to  our  stores  of  knowledge,  may  at 
least  serve  to  set  the  event  before  us  in  a  different 
light  and  put  upon  it  a  different  aspect  from  that 
in  which  many  minds  are  wont  to  look  at  it. 

With  these  views,  then,  we  approach  our  sub 
ject  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  something  of  the  Ee- 
deemer's  state  of  mind,  when  upon  the  cross  he 
cried  out  with  a  loud  voice,  and  which  certainly  has 


THE    CKFCIFIXION   SCENE.  19 

an  air  of  mystery  about  it.  When  we  look  at  the 
record,  we  find  that,  previous  to  the  moment  of  our 
Saviour's  history  now  under  consideration,  there 
were  exhibitions  of  feeling  which  plainly  evinced 
that  his  mind  was  filled  and  crushed  by  painful 
premonitions  of  the  experience  before  him.  The 
garden  scene  shows  us  his  spirit  wrestling  and 
agonizing  with  these  dire  apprehensions,  which  by 
their  influence  drove  his  life-blood  from  its  wonted 
channels,  and  extorted  from  him  his  earnest  prayer 
for  deliverance. 

It  is,  indeed,  by  no  means  difficult  to  imagine 
circumstances  when  a  man  may  be  convulsed  and 
tremble  greatly  in  view  of  the  hour  and  scene  of 
his  dissolution.     When  the  future  is  all  dark,  and 
the   sepulchre  looks  like  one's  final  resting-place, 
when  one  feels  that  the  winding-sheet  is  to  be  his 
eternal  habiliment,  that  light  is  never  to  break  in 
upon  his  grave,  and  no  voice  is  ever  to  be  heard 
disturbing  the  silence   of  his  resting-place,  I  can 
easily  understand  how  one  may  shrink  back ;  for 
nature,   as   such,   never  can  be  reconciled  to  the 
thought  of  an  eternal   extinction  of  being.     Man 
may,  indeed,  prefer  annihilation  to  a  state  of  per 
petual,  hopeless  misery,   because  the  fear  of  the 
future  may  triumph  over  and  paralyze  even  the  in 
stinctive  laws  of  our  being ;  but  nature,  as  such, 
must  shrink  back  with  horror  from  the  prospect  of 
ceasing  to  be.     So,  likewise,  when  conscience,  armed 
with  the  stings  of  a  guilty  life,  lashes  its  victim,  and 
heralds  an  approaching  storm  of  fire  and   blood ; 
when  the  undying  worm,  begins  to  prey  upon  the 


20  NATURE    AND    DESIGN    OF 

mind,  and  the  poison  cup  of  the  wrath  of  God  is 
put  to  the  lips,  and  the  first  taste  of  its  bitter  ingre 
dients  is  perceived,  there  is  room  for  the  heavings 
of  the  stoutest  spirit,  and  the  convulsive  agonies  of 
the  strongest  frame.  He  who  is  entirely  in  the  dark 
as  to  the  future,  he  whose  conscience  having  never 
been  pacified  by  the  peace-speaking  influence  of 
atoning  blood,  cannot  be  mastered,  may  well  shrink 
back  and  cry  in  agony  when  his  feet  touch  the 
first  cold  wave  of  that  boisterous  flood  which  rolls 
between  time  and  the  judgment-seat.  Here  we 
have  sufficient  sources  of  fear  and  agony  in  view  of 
approaching  dissolution.  I  allude  to  these,  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  they  cannot  be  in 
troduced  as  adequate  or  even  appropriate  expo 
nents  of  the  scene  we  are  called  to-day  to  study. 
There  could  be  nothing  in  the  darkness  of  the 
future,  or  the  gloom  of  the  sepulchre,  to  terrify  the 
spirit  of  Him  who  brought  life  and  immortality  to 
light.  No  fears  of  a  coming  retribution  could 
trouble  Him  who  was  "  holy,  harmless,  and  unde- 
filed ;"  nor  could  there  be  any  anticipations  to 
appal  him,  who,  "  in  the  view  of  the  joy  set  before 
him,  endured  the  cross,  despising  its  shame." 

There  is  a  wonderful  difference — you  must  have 
often  been  struck  by  it — between  the  dying  scene 
of  our  Saviour  and  that  of  many  of  his  followers ;  in 
the  one  case,  there  is  a  crushing  agony  and  the  wail 
of  seeming  despair ;  in  other  cases,  there  are  emo 
tions  of  joy  and  shouts  of  triumph.  What  a  con 
trast  between  the  language  of  an  apostle,  "  I  have 
a  desire  to  depart,  I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered ;" 


THE    CRUCIFIXION    SCENE.  21 

and  the  prayer  of  Jesus  Christ,  "  Father,  save  me 
from  this  hour ;"  between  the  Saviour's  lamenta 
tion  on  the  cross  and  the  experience  of  the  culprit 
crucified  with  him,  whose  troubled  spirit  that 
Saviour's  promise  calmed,  and  whose  sinking  soul 
that  Saviour's  strength  sustained ;  a  contrast,  which, 
as  we  examine  it,  forces  upon  us  the  conclusion, 
that  no  ordinary  principles  of  explanation  meet 
the  case,  and  compels  us  to  find  a  solution  in  some 
thing  which  does  not  strike  the  eye. 

There  is  a  struggle  going  on  in  that  sufferer's 
mind  of  which  neither  you  nor  I  can  form  any  ade 
quate  conception ;  and  when  we  say  that  his  expe 
riences,  so  sad,  so  overwhelming,  were  of  a  mental 
nature,  independent  of  visible  scenes  and  circum 
stances,  we  seem  to  many  to  have  reached  a  point 
beyond  which  we  cannot  go,  without  launching 
upon  an  ocean  of  vain  and  unsatisfying  conjecture. 
True  it  is,  that  we  cannot  determine  the  precise 
nature  of  our  Saviour's  experiences  in  the  hour  of 
his  conflict,  for  we  can  form  no  just  idea  of  experi 
ences  of  which  we  ourselves  have  not  to  some  de 
gree  been  the  subjects ;  but  if  we  cannot  tell  all 
the  ingredients  which  were  mingled  in  that  bitter 
cup  which  was  given  him  to  drink,  we  can  at  least 
say  what  was  not  stirred  into  the  bitter  draught. 
and  thus  detect  the  fallacy  of  some  views,  which,  I 
apprehend,  are  sources  of  painful  feeling  to  many, 
because  I  remember  well  how  once  they  troubled 
my  own  mind,  as  detracting  greatly  from  the  cha 
racter  of  the  Redeemer.  Let  me  ask  your  attention 
to  a  thought  or  two. 


22  1STATUKE    AND    DESIGN    OF 

The  scene  of  the  cross  was  the  crisis  of  our 
Saviour's  sorrow.  The  sufferings  of  his  life  had 
been  many  and  bitter,  as  he  had  gone  on  from  pain 
to  pain,  and  anguish  to  anguish  ;  yet  they  were  but 
the  sprinklings  which  heralded  the  coming  tempest. 
It  was  on  Calvary  that  the  storm  burst  upon  him 
in  its  tremendousness  ;  and  if  you  look  carefully  at 
his  language  during  this  crisis,  you  will  find  him 
overwhelmed  and  crushed,  mainly  by  the  conscious 
ness  of  this  fact,  that  he  was  abandoned  l>y  God. 

Now,  what  did  he  mean  by  this  ?  Is  it  true  ; 
can  it  be  true,  as  many  have  often  said,  and  as  we 
ourselves  have  often  thought,  that  God  in  this  hour 
of  his  Son's  extremity,  withdrew  from  him.  the 
light  of  his  countenance  and  threw  over  him  the 
cloud  of  his  displeasure  ?  Was  it  any  manifesta 
tion  of  wrath  toward  him  personally  which  so  dis 
tressed  his  mind  and  drank  .up  his  spirit  ?  His 
language  does  indeed  appear  at  first  sight  to  suggest 
such  a  thought ;  but  in  view  of  this  supposition, 
the  scene  of  Calvary,  is  to  my  mind,  wrapped  in 
greater  mystery  than  before.  If,  indeed,  the  medi 
ation  of  Christ  consisted  in  such  an  exchange  of 
position  between  Himself  and  those  for  whom  he 
suffered,  that  their  guilt,  as  well  as  legal  obligation 
to  suffering,  was  transferred  to  Him,  it  should  be 
perfectly  consistent  to  speak  of  His  enduring  the 
wrath  of  God ;  but  who  can  reconcile  his  views  of 
the  character  of  the  Redeemer  with  the  idea  that 
punishment,  in  any  proper  sense,  entered  into  His 
sufferings  ?  Whose  feelings  will  allow  him  to  in 
troduce  the  thought  of  punishment  as  an  exponent 


THE    CEUCIFIXIOTi   SCENE.  23 

of  the  dying  agonies  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  Can  we  have 
in  the  same  person  a  being  innocent,  yet  guilty  ? 
one  upon  whom  God  looks  in  wrath,  and  yet  with 
great  complacency  ?  one  who  is  visited  with  punish 
ment  at  the  time  when  he  is  performing  his  high 
est  act  of  obedience  ?  it  cannot  be.  Jesus  Christ 
was  God's  beloved  Son,  in  whom  he  was  well 
pleased  ;  and  never  was  he  more  pleased  with  him 
than  when  he  reached  the  extremity  of  his  woe. 
If  this  supposition  is  inadmissible ;  is  there  any 
room  for  another,  which  has  often  been  advanced, 
that  Jesus  Christ  lost  sight  of  his  Father's  coun 
tenance,  or  at  least  apprehended  such  a  loss  ?  How 
is  such  a  thought  to  be  reconciled  with  the  facts, 
that  in  the  moment  of  his  bitterest  experience  his 
language  is  that  of  filial  and  affectionate  confidence  ? 
that  at  this  very  moment,  he  had  distinctly  in  view 
"  the  joy  set  before  him ;"  that  he  had  an  interest 
in  Heaven,  as  evinced  by  the  assurance  given  to 
the  thief  at  his  side ;  that  he  could  with  perfect 
confidence  commit  his  spirit  to  his  Father,  and  act 
the  part  of  intercessor  as  he  prayed  for  those  who 
nailed  him  to  the  tree.  There  is  nothing  in  all 
this  which  looks  like  spiritual  abandonment  or  a 
loss  of  the  light  of  God's  countenance.  In  view  of 
such  facts,  I  can  never  admit  the  common  exposi 
tion  of  our  Redeemer's  suffering  as  consisting  in  any 
thing  like  darkness  or  momentary  despair.  There 
is  not  a  thought  like  this  upon  any  page  of  the 
Bible ;  there  is  nothing  in  any  recorded  circum 
stance  of  a  Saviour's  passion  which  can  furnish  the 
least  ground  for  such  a  supposition. 


24  NATURE   AND   DESIGN    OF 

And  yet  there  must  be  a  sense  in  which  Christ 
was  forsaken  of  God,  or  he  never  would  have  used 
the  language — what  then,  we  repeat  the  question, 
are  we  to  understand  by  it  ?  He  was  given  up  to 
suffering.  If  you  look  at  the  pages  of  the  Bible, 
you  find  that  there  was  given  unto  the  Redeemer  a 
particular  work  to  do.  "  For  this  purpose  was  the 
Son  of  God  manifested,  that  he  might  destroy  the 
works  of  the  devil."  To  do  it,  he  must  show  how 
iniquity  can  be  forgiven,  while  at  the  same  time, 
he  breaks  the  power  of  him  who  had  triumphed 
over  man.  It  was  a  work  at  once  of  wisdom  and 
of  power.  Under  a  perfect  government,  the  con 
nection  between  sin  and  suffering  must  be  seen  to 
be  indissoluble.  If  you  can  conceive  of  any  circum 
stances  in  which  these  two  ideas  can  be  dissociated, 
you  can  conceive  of  circumstances,  in  wThich  the 
securities  of  righteousness  and  happiness,  are  not 
perfect.  If  Christ  then  is  to  accomplish  his  work, 
he  must  be  made  perfect  through  suffering,  and  his 
suffering,  to  answer  its  end,  must  be  as  intense  as 
sin  is  malignant.  He  must  therefore  so  identify  him 
self  with  sinful  man,  that  his  sufferings  shall  be 
seen  in  connection  with  their  sin  as  the  ground  of 
its  forgiveness,  or  in  other  words  its  expiation. 
Thus  it  was  that  the  curse  of  a  broken  law  might 
be  traced  in  his  mighty  pangs,  and  every  line  of 
the  writing  of  agony,  might  be  a  lesson,  as  to  the 
evil  and  magnitude  of  the  curse.  In  this  sense  he 
could  be  given  up  by  God  to  sorrow,  and  at  one 
and  the  same  time  he  might  sink  under  the  fearful 
pressure  which  was  put  upon  him,  while  he  yet 


THE    CKUCIFIXION   SCENE.  25 

Lad  continually  the  light  of  his   Father's  counte 
nance. 

If  you  look  again  attentively  at  the  record  of  the 
Redeemer's  sufferings,  you  will  discover  in  almost 
every  line,  intimations  of  some  hidden,  mysterious 
strife.  The  scene  of  Calvary  was  distinctly  antici 
pated  by  him,  as  "  the  hour  of  the  power  of  dark 
ness.'1  What  was  open  and  palpable  in  these  tragic 
occurrences,  was  but  part  of  the  doings  of  the  same 
agency  which  was  working,  still  more  terribly,  un 
seen.  In  all  that  was  visible  the  prince  of  darkness 
was  using  the  influence  of  men,  while  in  the  spirit 
ual  and  invisible  world  he  was  using  other  agencies 
far  more  mighty.  Christ  had  voluntarily  assumed 
the  work  of  captain  of  our  salvation,  and  as  such 
he  must  carry  it  through  single-handed  and  alone. 
It  was  necessary  to  the  perfection  of  his  character, 
as  the  great  Mediator,  that  he  should  himself  be 
seen  to  be  the  conqueror  of  death  and  hell,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  give  assurance  to  all  who  put  their  con 
fidence  in  him  of  his  ability  to  secure  to  them 
ultimate  victory  by  means  of  the  same  power,  by 
virtue  of  wrhich,  he  himself  triumphed  so  gloriously. 
His  language  upon  the  cross,  therefore,  seemingly 
so  mysterious,  was,  as  I  apprehend,  but  the  expres 
sion  of  his  feelings,  as  he  found  himself  solitary  in 
this  last  desperate  strife.  He  had  never  uttered 
such  language  before — as  never  before  had  he  been 
placed  in  precisely  similar  circumstances,  never  be 
fore  had  he  been  conscious,  of  being  left  to  manage 
alone,  and  master  alone  the  powers  of  darkness 
with  whom  he  was  called  to  contend.  During  his 


26  NATURE    AND    DESIGN    OF 

previous  history,  amid  all  the  scenes  through  which 
he  passed,  and  under  all  the  difficulties  he  was 
called  to  encounter,  and  all  the  trials  he  had  been 
summoned  to  endure,  it  never  was  true  of  him,  that 
he  stood  alone.  In  the  hour  of  his  temptation 
he  had  succours  from  on  high ;  in  his  conflict  in 
the  garden  angels  ministered  to  him.  Very  differ 
ent  is  it  with  him  now,  and  it  is  not  surprising 
that  when  he  reached  the  crisis  and  heat  of  the 
struggle,  and  the  last  great  onset  was  to  be  made 
upon  him,  when  about  to  receive  the  fulness  of  the 
cup  which  had  been  mingled  for  him,  and  his 
overwrought  and  overtasked  human  spirit  was 
taxed  to  the  utmost  of  its  powers  of  action  and 
endurance,  he  should  give  vent  to  his  feelings  in 
the  language  of  dereliction.  I  look  upon  his  words, 
therefore,  in  these  circumstances,  as  conveying  the 
same  meaning  with  like  wrords  uttered  in  olden 
time  by  the  Church,  and  on  one  occasion  by  the 
Psalmist,  "  The  Lord  hath  forsaken  me."  At  that 
very  moment  they  were  dear  to  him.  as  the  apple 
of  his  eye,  and  he  never  forgot  them  for  an 
instant ;  but  for  the  time,  they  were  left  under  the 
power  of  affliction,  without  any  visible  means  of  re 
lief  but  such  as  they  themselves  could  furnish.  So 
it  was  with  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  language,  so  far 
from  conveying  the  idea  that  he  was  suffering  the 
wrath  of  God,  or  was  a  subject  of  spiritual  derelic 
tion,  is  but  expressive  of  his  feelings,  as  he  entered 
single-handed  into  his  last  desperate  conflict  with 
his  greatest  enemy. 

I  give  this  interpretation  of  our  Saviour's  experi 
ence  upon  the  cross,  as  the  only  one  in  which  my 


THE    CBUCIFIXIOISr    SCENE.  27 

own  mind  can  rest,  as  relieving  the  subject  from 
difficulties,  not  only  upon  any  other  supposition  in 
surmountable,  but  as  painful  to  every  Christian 
heart. 

And  yet  the  scene  which  is  here  presented  to 
our  attention,  even  when  relieved  of  its  difficulties, 
is  truly  wonderful ;  and  the  end  which  it  contem 
plated  must  be  as  extraordinary  as  wonderful. 
What  that  end  was  is  an  appropriate  enquiry,  be 
cause  in  the  end  as  illustrated  by  the  means,  is 
found  the  power  of  the  cross. 

My  first  remark  here  is,  that  the  trials  and  suf 
ferings  of  Jesus  Christ  were  essential  to  the  perfec 
tion  of  his  character  as  our  great  example.  "  To 
this  end,"  we  are  told,  that  "  he  suffered  for  us, 
leaving  us  an  example."  There  have  been  in  our 
world  examples  of  patience  and  submission  and 
resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  but  there  have  been 
none  like  that  of  Jesus  Christ.  To  answer  this 
great  end,  he  must  learn  obedience  from  his  suffer 
ing,  and  learn  it  too  in  the  most  painful  circum 
stances  ;  he  must  endure  the  heaviest  trials  which 
can  weigh  down  a  human  spirit,  and  become  ac 
quainted  with  sorrow,  not  merely  in  its  varied,  but 
in  its  heaviest  forms,  and  having  thus  learned  obe 
dience,  by  going  through  the  perfection  of  suffer 
ing,  he  has  become  a  perfect  example.  So,  like 
wise,  to  qualify  him  for  his  office,  as  "  the  captain 
of  salvation  to  all  them  who  obey  him,"  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  pass  through  the  very  scenes 
of  trial  and  conflict  which  marked  his  history ;  he 
must  meet  the  powers  of  darkness  at  the  moment 


28  JSTATUEE    AND    DESIGN    OF 

when  they  gained  their  greatest  ascendancy,  and 
overcome  them,  when  they  put  on  their  severest 
forms  of  malice,  and  put  forth  the  mightiest  efforts 
of  their  strength.  This  he  did  upon  the  cross,  and 
having  there  made  a  show  of  his  enemies  openly, 
he  is  manifested  to  the  world  "  as  able  to  save  unto 
the  uttermost  all  who  come  unto  God  by  him." 
In  the  midst  of  such  thoughts,  however,  important 
as  they  are,  and  essential  as  they  may  be  to  a  cor 
rect  view  of  our  Redeemer's  position  and  work,  we 
must  not  overlook  what  seems  to  us  to  have  been 
the  main  design  of  the  crucifixion  scene. 

The  grand  theme  wrhich  constitutes  the  burden 
of  this  revelation,  is  reconciliation  between  man 
and  God,  and  this  reconciliation  is  uniformly  spoken 
of  as  effected  only  by  the  cross  of  Christ.  The 
forgiveness  of  human  transgression — that  is  the 
point  to  be  compassed — and  to  be  compassed  in  a 
way  as  honourable  to  God  as  it  is  safe  for  man. 
The  integrity  of  the  divine  character,  no  more  than 
man's  own  sense  of  right,  preclude  the  idea  of  for 
giveness  and  reconciliation  separate  from  something 
which  taking  the  place  of  our  punishment,  shall 
answer  the  same  end,  and  make  an  equal  or  a  bet 
ter  impression.  Something  there  must  be,  upon 
which  the  human  conscience  can  roll  the  burden  of 
its  guilt,  something  which  can  inspire  confidence  in 
God  ;  otherwise  there  is  a  barrier  between  the  soul 
and  its  Creator,  high  as  heaven,  and  enduring  as  the 
Eternal  throne  ;  and  upon  this  intricate  and  per 
plexing  question,  the  cross  of  Christ  has  thrown  its 
unequivocal  and  satisfactory  light,  demonstrating 


THE   CKUCIFIXIOX    SCENE.  29 

no  less  clearly  God's  j  ustice  than  his  grace  in  for 
giveness. 

I  am  not  wrong  in  speaking  of  the  wondrous  im 
pression,  which,  the  sufferings  of  a  Redeemer  as  a 
substitute  for  man,  have   made  upon  the  human 
mind.     Since  the  world  began,  no  transaction  like 
it   has   ever    taken  place — no   expedient  like    it 
has    ever    been    found    to    influence   the   human 
heart  or  stay  the  swelling  tide  of  human  corrup 
tion.     The  flood  swept  away  a  guilty  world,  and 
the  impression  made  by  that  dread  manifestation 
of    divine   displeasure  was   soon   forgotten.     Fire 
from,  heaven  destroyed  the  cities  of  the  plain,  and 
the  impression  was  soon  forgotten,  and  they  who 
stood  around  the  cross  of  Christ,  thought  that  the 
impression  of  the  crucifixion  scene  would  be  soon 
forgotten.     But  it  was  not  so  ;  the  blood  of  Geth- 
semane   and   Calvary   was  scarcely  dry,  ere   this 
event  attracted  the  attention,  affected  the  hearts, 
and  changed  the  character  of  thousands.     Its  influ 
ence  spread  with  the  rapidity  of  fire  ;   wealth  and 
power  were  insufficient  to  stay  its  progress,  or  pre 
vent   its  effect ;  at  the  present  day,  it  holds   an 
ascendancy  over  more  hearts  than  ever ;  you  feel 
it,  I  feel  it,  every  where  we  cannot  escape  it,  if  we 
would ;  and  its  influence  is  extending  and  widening, 
and  deepening,  promising  to  reach  every  nation, 
every  family,  every  human  being  upon  our  globe. 
The  impression  moreover,  which  it  makes  is  of  the 
very  character  needed;  an  impression   not   more 
distinct  of  God's  readiness  to  forgive  sin  than  of  His 
displeasure  against  sin.     Can  any  of  us  doubt  its 


30 

impressive  power  ?     Is  there  one  who  does  not  feel 
it  ?     One,  some  of  the  movements  of  whose  mind 
it  does  not  control  ?     I  take  the  man  who  imagines 
that  the  question  of  his  immortality  can  be  very 
easily  disposed  of;  the  man  who  finds  shelter  from 
his  fears  under  the  influence  of  some  vague  notions 
of  the  mercy  of  God,  and  carry  him  to  the  scene  of 
the  crucifixion,  and  Lid  him  study  it,  to  look  at  his 
reasonings  and  his  hopes  in  the  light  of  the  cross. 
If  there  is  anything  which  will  disturb  a  man  in 
his  unconcern  about  futurity ;  if  there  is  anything 
which  will  shake  the  foundation  of  false  hopes,  the 
cross  of  Christ  will  do  it.     You  think  yourself  safe, 
uninterested  in  the  Llood  of  atonement.     See  what 
God  thinks  of  your  confidence  and  hope.     Your 
reasonings  upon  the  subject  come  in  too  late.     God 
has  answered  them  already,  in  the  expression  of  his 
views  of  sin,  given  in  the  death  of  His  Son.   Every 
movement  of  that  sufferer  as  he  prays  in  his  agony ; 
every  drop  of  Llood  which  he  sheds,  testifies  to  the 
worthlessness  of  your  hope.     Your  most   serious 
misgivings,  your  most  anxious  thoughts,  your  most 
harassing  fears,  your  most  unhappy  anticipations, 
called  into  being  as  they  are  by  the  study  of  the 
cross,  are  the  honest  testimony  of  your  own  spirit 
to  its  impressive  power  and  the  demonstration  of 
the  wisdom  of  God  in  his  plan  of  reconciliation. 

No  less  mighty  is  it  in  its  action  upon  the  mind 
of  the  humble  and  contrite,  than  it  is  upon  the 
conscience  of  the  presumptuous  and  unsubdued. 
The  impression  which  in  this  case  it  makes,  as  to 
one's  safety,  is  as  deep  and  effective,  as  the  impres- 


THE    CEUClFlAiUiS    bOE.N.E. 


sion  which  it  makes  in  the  other  case  of  one's  peril. 
Christians   there   may   be,   whose   claims    to   the 
character  and  name,  I  should  be  slow  to  dispute, 
who  have  very  little  confidence  in   the  value  of 
their  hopes,  and  sometimes  even  pride  themselves 
upon  their  doubts,  as  evidences  of  a  sensitive  and 
enlightened  conscience ;  but  what  right  have  you 
or  I  to  compliment  ourselves  at  the  expense  of  the 
cross  of  Christ  ?     If  the  ground  of  our  dependence 
was  in  ourselves,  we  might  well  doubt ;  but  what 
room  is  there  for  doubt  in  view  of  him  who  magni 
fied  the  law  and  made  it  honorable  ?  My  iniquities 
may  be  so  many  that  I  cannot  number  them,  and 
so   great  that  I  cannot   measure  their  enormity. 
My   ill-desert  may  be   so  vast,   as  to  be  beyond 
my  power  of  calculation,  but  I  cannot  go  to  the 
cross  and  study  its  meaning  without  learning  that 
the  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin.     Many 
and  strong  may  be  my  temptations,  and  sometimes 
I  fear  that  I  may  be  borne  down  and  carried  away 
by  their  power.     But  my  fears  vanish  when  I  re 
member  that  I  walk  under  the  protection  of  Him 
who  having  been  in  all  points  tempted  like  myself, 
and  having  learned  obedience  from  the  things  which 
he  suffered,  is  exalted  to  be  a  high  priest,  enabled 
from  his  experience  to  sympathize  with  me,  and  by 
his  power  to  succour  me  in  every  exigency  of  my 
being.      I  may  be  called  to  wrestle,  not  simply 
with  flesh  and  blood,  but  with  principalities  and 
powers  likewise,  yet  the  captain  of  my  salvation  is 
one  who  has  made  a  show  of  them  openly  upon  his 
cross ;  and  where,  or  who  is  he  that  condenineth, 


32  ]5TATUBE    AKD    DESIGN    OF 

since  "  it  is  Christ  who  died,  yea,  rather  who  is 


risen  again  ?" 


The  impression  then  of  the  crucifixion  scene  upon 
the  Christian's  mind,  assuring  him  of  his  safety,  is  no 
less  distinct,  than  its-  impression  upon  the  sinner's 
mind  assuring  him  of  his  danger ;  the  fears  of  the 
former  and  the  hopes  of  the  latter,  can  exist  only  as 
the  garden,  the  cross,  and  the  sepulchre  are  shut 
out  from  the  view — if  the  one  dare  not  hope,  the 
other  dare  not  fear,  as  he  thinks  of  the  Eedeemer's 
work. 

Oh  !  there  is  something  in  this  cross,  we  know  it 
and  feel  it,  which  has  a  wonderous  power  to  arrest, 
awaken,  and  convince  ;  and  a  power  no  less  wonder 
ous  to  soothe,  to  rest  the  anxious  spirit,  to  charm,  to 
quietness  the  troubled  conscience,  and  wake  to 
hope  the  desponding  soul.  They  who  are  careless 
have  but  to  look  to  tremble,  they  who  are  sinking 
under  a  load  of  conscious  guilt,  have  but  to  look  to 
live,  and  they  who  are  harassed  by  fears,  have  but 
to  look  to  put  on  new  forms  of  strength. 

I  have  one  more  thought :  the  cross  of  Christ  is 
a  demonstration  of  love,  a  warrant  for  confidence, 
an  appeal  to  everything  noble  and  generous  about 
human  nature.  I  question  not  that  the  Redeemer's 
work  took  its  peculiar  form,  as  much  to  meet  the 
feelings  of  the  human  hearts  as  to  meet  the  require 
ments  of  God's  justice  and  truth.  Our  feelings,  my 
brethren,  towards  God,  are  naturally  those  of  dis 
trust  and  opposition,  and  that  simply  because  we 
are  sinners ;  and  these  feelings  must  be  mastered 
before  we  can  be  saved ;  and  they  must  be  mastered 


THE    CEUCIFIXIOlSr    SCENE.  33 

by  an  unequivocal  overwhelming  demonstration  of 
love ;  and  we  have  it  in  the  cross,  for  there  "  God 
is  in  Christ,  reconciling  man  unto  Himself."  The 
Redeemer  was  not  compelled  to  suffer ;  at  any 
moment  he  might  have  turned  back  from  the  path 
upon  which  he  had  entered ;  he  might  have  taken 
refuge  in  his  own  purity  and  thrown  from  him  the 
oppressive  curse,  which  seemed  every  moment  to 
grow  longer  and  broader,  and  deeper  and  higher. 
And  why  did  he  not  do  it  ?  We  have  no  other 
answer  than  this.  His  suffering  to  him  was  a  con 
tinual  lesson  of  the  extent  and  magnitude  of  the 
curse,  as  it  taught  him  how  much  he  had  to  en 
dure  ;  it  taught  him.  how  much  man  must  endure 
if  he  gave  him  up ;  and  because  he  loved  man 
so  much  the  thickening  darkness  of  the  curse  only 
bound  him  the  faster  to  his  work ;  the  increasing 

O 

weight  of  the  curse  only  urged  him  onward  ;  its 
growing  immensity  only  animated  him  to  throw 
every  nerve  into  the  effort  for  its  annihilation  ;  the 
principle  which  controlled  became  more  energetic 
and  active  as  the  suffering  became  more  intense ; 
he  saw,  he  endured,  he  triumphed  under  the  influ 
ence  of  love  to  man ;  and  now  he  not  only  shows 
us  that  we  may  trust  him,  but  he  addresses  his 
appeal  to  these  hearts. 

And  I  know,  my  hearer,  that  there  are  hearts 
which  respond  to  this  appeal,  if  yours  does  not.  I 
know  that  there  are  those  who  will  here  and  else 
where,  gather  to-day  around  the  memorial  of  a 
Saviour's  love,  and  under  the  subduing  influence  of 
the  cross,  will  give  themselves  away  to  him,  who 
3 


34  NATURE   AND    DESIGN    OF 

on  their  account  shrank  not  from  the  curse.  Theirs 
will  be  strong  emotions  as  well  of  confidence  as  of 
gratitude.  What  shall  yours  be?  "What  tale 
shall  be  told  of  you,  and  what  record  made  of  your 
feelings  and  purposes  ?  A  tale  which  will  sound 
strange  in  heaven,  and  be  read  by  you  hereafter 
with  an  aching,  sinking  heart.  The  tale  of  one 
who  could  study  a  Redeemer's  agony  and  sympa 
thize  with  the  spirit  which  caused  it ;  of  one  who 
could  go  to  his  master  in  Gethsemane  and  wring 
into  the  cup  from  which  he  drinks  some  of  its 
drops  of  bitterness ;  who  could  go  with  him  to 
Calvary,  and  join  with  the  unseen  powers  who  dis 
tracted  his  holy  soul.  Sin  forced  from  him  his  cry 
of  agony,  as  it  gave  horrors  to  the  curse  which 
overwhelmed  him,  and  you  will  not  forsake  sin ! 
Sin,  your  sin,  explains  this  dread  catastrophe, 
and  solves  all  its  mysteries,  and  you  will  be  a  sinner 
still !  You  do  not  fully  comprehend  this  matter, 
or  you  could  not  think,  and  feel,  and  act  as  you 
do.  If  you  do,  if  you  can  remain  a  sinner,  unsub 
dued  by  the  cross,  understanding  its  meaning  and 
its  mysteries,  I  would  not  occupy  your  position  for 
ten  thousand  worlds.  I  would  rather  be  one  of 
those  who  nailed  him  to  the  tree  and  pierced  his 
side,  for  of  them  could  our  Saviour  say,  as  he  cannot 
say  of  you,  "  They  know  not  what  they  do." 

My  guilty,  unhappy  hearer,  a  dying  Saviour 
speaks  to  you  to-day;  his  bitter  passion  and  his 
prayer  of  agony,  his  atoning  blood,  and  his  dying 
exclamation,  these  are  the  arguments  of  the  sinner's 
friend.  An  archangel  could  not  speak  to  you  in 


THE    CKUCIFLXION   SCENE.  35 

strains  so  sweet,  nor  yet  in  tones  so  awful,  as  does 
the  cross  of  Christ.  Under  the  influence  of  that 
cross  I  would  put  myself,  in  strong  confidence,  and 
a  spirit  of  devotion;  under  the  influence  of  its 
arguments  and  appeals  I  would  leave  you.  If  you 
cannot  admit  its  claims  and  yield  to  its  power,  if 
you  cannot  give  yourself  to  your  Master  as  he 
speaks  to  you  to-day,  go  write,  I  know  you  must 
do  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  go  write  your  decision 
upon  his  cross. 


"  THE  LAMB  SLAIN  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  THE   THRONE." 


"  And,  I  beheld,  and  lo !  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,  and  of  the  four 
beasts,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  ciders,  stood  a  Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain, 
having  seven  horns,  and  seven  eyes,  which  are  the  seven  spirits  of  God? 
;sent  forth  into  all  the  earth." — REVELATIONS  v.  6. 

FEOM  the  splendid  vision  which  was  vouchsafed 
to  the  beloved  disciple,  on  the  isle  of  Patmos,  we 
select  that  part  contained  in  our  text,  as  furnishing 
an  appropriate  theme  for  our  meditation  this  morn 
ing.  It  is  not  upon  the  throne,  circled  though  it 
was  with  a  rainbow  of  emerald,  nor  yet  upon  him 
who  sat  upon  it,  gorgeous  though  he  was  with  jasper 
and  sardine  stone,  nor  yefc  upon  the  living  creatures, 
crowned  though  they  were  with  gold,  that  we  wish 
to  fix  your  attention,  but  rather  upon  what  at  first 
sight  appears  to  be  out  of  place,  because  incon 
gruous  to  what  is  so  majestic  and  magnificent,  a 
Lamb  slain,  a  being,  in  the  midst  of  this  glory, 
clothed  with  the  symbols  of  sadness,  and  exhibit 
ing  the  marks  of  humiliation,  and  suffering  and 
death. 

The  design  of  the  vision  must  be  apparent  to 
every  one  who  will  give  a  careful  attention  to  the 


THE    LAMB    SLAIN.  37 

context.  It  is  to  exhibit  the  dominion  of  God,  and 
his  unrestrained  and  controlling  agency  in  manag 
ing  the  affairs  of  the  world.  In  the  hands  of  him 
who  sat  upon  the  throne,  was  a  sealed,  .mysterious 
volume,  full  of  the  secrets  of  the  future;  and  of  all 
the  hosts  of  heaven,  not  one  was  able  to  break 
the  seals,  and  throw  open  the  book,  but  one  who 
was  designated  by  the  august  title  of  "  the  Lion  of 
the  tribe  Judah,  the  Root  of  David  ;"  and  surely, 
these  notes  of  preparation,  this  wonderful  and 
splendid  preliminary  process  would  lead  us  to  an 
ticipate  in  the  person  of  Him  who  alone  was  able 
to  open  the  book,  the  appearance  at  least  of  sur 
passing  glory ;  and  yet,  while  the  apostle  looks 
with  admiring  expectation  for  the  coming  of  one 
who  had  been  thus  hailed  and  announced,  he  be 
holds  not  a  being  wearing  an  aspect  of  resistless 
power,  not  a  being  arrayed  with  thunder,  and 
seemingly  able  to  trample  upon  principalities  and 
powers,  but  "  a  Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain,"  a  being, 
wearing  amid  all  the  grandeur  by  which  he  was 
surrounded,  if  I  may  speak  so,  the  imagery  of 
death.  It  was  the  glorified  humanity  of  Jesus 
Christ  upon  which  he  gazed,  bearing  yet  the  evi 
dences  of  a  cruel  and  languishing  death,  to  which 
it  had  submitted ;  the  print  of  the  nails  w^as  there, 
the  gash  of  the  spear  was  there.  Exalted  though 
he  was,  the  evidences  of  his  humiliation  had  not 
been  effaced ;  there  amid  all  his  glory  were  the  traces 
of  his  previous  infamy  and  suffering :  this  is  the  be- 
•  ing,  with  "  the  seven  horns,"  emblems  of  power  and 
"  the  seven  eyes,"  emblems  of  wisdom,  "  which  are 


38  THE   LAMB   SLAEST 

the  seven  spirits  of  God  sent  forth  into  all  the 
earth." 

Now,  can  we  mistake  the  doctrine  inculcated  ? 
The  government  of  this  world  rests  with  Jesus 
Christ,  as  a  once  crucified  Saviour,  and  he  is  invested 
as  such,  with  all  the  power,  and  all  the  wisdom, 
necessary  to  break  the  seals  of  God's  book  of  Pro 
vidence,  and  bring  out  the  wondrous  secrets  con 
tained  within  its  mysterious  leaves. 

There  are  then  two  thoughts  embodied  in  this 
exhibition.  The  appearance  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
heaven,  "  as  a  Lamb  slain,"  bearing  the  evidence  of 
his  conflict  and  suffering;  and  the  government 
which  as  such  he  exercises  over  this  world.  The 
reasons  for  this  peculiar  manifestation,  the  lessons 
which  we  are  taught  by  it,  and  the  fact,  that  all 
the  events  in  the  world,  all  the  developments  of 
God's  providence  are  made  subservient  to  the  Re 
deemer's  purposes,  are  to  furnish  us  with  topics  of 
remark. 

1.  My  first  thought  is,  the  sacrificial  offering  of 
Jesus  Christ  is  recognized  in  heaven.  Think  as 
men  may  of  the  theme  of  redemption  through 
atoning  blood,  it  is  acknowledged  in  its  reality  and 
perceived  in  its  glory  by  the  dwellers  in  a  higher 
and  purer  sphere  than  our  own.  If  the  thrones  of 
heaven  bow  to  the  Lamb  slain,  if  its  lamps  burn 
around  him,  its  laurels  garland,  its  harps  celebrate, 
and  its  incense  enshrines  him,  what  care  we  for  the 
names  and  opinions  and  suffrages  of  men  ?  You 
cannot  by  any  possibility  explain  this  peculiar  ap 
pellation  given  to  Jesus  Christ,  without  bringing 


IN    THE   MIDST    OF    THE    THRONE.  39 

into  view  the  idea  of  Ms  sacrificial  work.  "The 
Lamb,"  "  the  Lamb  of  God,"  "the  Lamb  of  God 
slain."  You  must  go  back  to  Jewish  history 
to  find  a  key  to  unlock  the  mystery  of  these  re 
markable  designations ;  you  must  go  back  to  the 
dark  stillness  of  that  night  when  the  destroying 
angel  was  commissioned  to  traverse  the  land  of 
Egypt  in  its  length  and  breadth,  dealing  out  death 
to  the  first  born  of  the  people,  and  covering  the 
country  with  a  saddened  and  terrified  population. 
On  that  night  were  the  children  of  Israel  required 
to  slay  a  lamb  for  every  house,  and  take  the 
blood  and  sprinkle  it  on  the  side-posts  and  doors 
of  their  dwellings,  that  when  the  destroying  angel 
went  through  the  land,  he  might  pass  by,  and  leave 
unharmed  the  houses  upon  whose  thresholds  ap 
peared  the  commanded  memorial.  It  was  a  type, 
as  the  apostle  tells  us,  of  "  the  blood  of  sprinkling  ;" 
and  if  Christ  is  presented  to  us,  as  "  a  lamb,"  and 
"  a  lamb  slain,"  if  his  blood  is  called  "  the  blood  of 
sprinkling,"  it  must  be  so,  because  it  is  the  mark  of 
deliverance  set  upon  those  who  are  saved  from  the 
ruins  of  the  apostacy  ;  and  as  in  the  night  of 
Egypt's  dismay  the  destroying  angel  knew  from 
the  blood  spots  on  the  dwellings  where  to  strike 
and  where  to  forbear,  so,  in  the  last  day,  when 
the  wheels  of  the  universe  stand  still,  and  begin  to 
break,  when  the  year  of  the  redeemed  shall  have 
come,  and  the  day  of  vengeance  shall  have  arrived, 
the  angels  of  God  shall  be  guided,  by  a  like  desig 
nation,  as  they  go  forth  to  sever  between  the 
wicked  and  the  righteous,  and  they  only  shall  be 


40  THE   LAMB    SLAIN 

delivered  from  the  terrors  of  the  final  catastrophe, 
who  have  been  sprinkled  with  that  blood  which 
"  cleanseth  from  all  sin." 

But  while  the  correspondence  between  the  an 
cient  paschal  lamb  and  the  Redeemer,  explains  the 
peculiar  appellation  given  to  the  latter,  it  goes  no 
farther  in  unfolding  the  mysteries  of  our  text.  We 
can  easily  understand  that  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  an 
ti-type  of  the  ancient  sacrifices,  must  himself  be  a 
sacrifice,  and  as  the  blood  of  the  offered  lamb  was 
the  only  security  to  the  Israelites  in  the  night 
of  Egypt's  desolation,  so  in  the  day  of  this  world's 
ruin,  the  only  pledge  of  protection  and  passport  to 
safety  must  be  found  in  the  blood  and  death  of  the 
crucified  one.  But  why  after  the  Redeemer  has 
passed  through  and  accomplished  his  work,  and 
risen  to  his  glory  and  his  throne,  should  he  be  re 
presented  as  wearing  still,  amid  his  splendour,  the 
mementoes  and  badges  of  his  former  humiliation 
and  suffering  ? 

In  the  appearances  of  sanctified  spirits  in  the 
other  world,  as  they  were  made  to  the  beloved 
disciple,  there  was  nothing  like  sadness  or  suffering. 
They  are,  indeed,  represented  as  those  "  who  had 
come  out  of  great  tribulation ;"  but  then  all  tears 
had  been  washed  from,  their  eyes,  and  all  sorrow 
and  sighing  had  fled  away  for  ever.  We  feel  that 
it  would  be  incongruous  to  represent  a  glorified 
saint  in  heaven  as  one  who  bore  the  marks  of 
suffering.  It  would  give  an  aspect  of  melancholy 
and  gloom  to  the  whole  scenery  of  the  skies  if  the 
ransomed  bore  the  marks  of  trial  and  suffering, 


I]ST   THE   MIDST    OF   THE   THKONE.  41 

because  they  would  be  mementoes,  not  of  trials 
only,  but  of  sins  likewise  ;  signs  not  of  sorrow 
simply,  but  of  a  guilty  apostacy.  It  is  not  so,  how 
ever,  with  Christ.  His  sufferiugs  were  indeed  con 
nected  with  sin,  but  not  his  own.  He  sorrowed, 
but  not  for  himself.  He  agonized,  but  the  iniquity 
of  others  drove  him.  to  the  garden  and  the  cross. 
The  imagery  of  suffering  and  death,  which  would 
appear  exceedingly  painful,  and  even  reproachful, 
if  woven  into  the  raiment  of  one  who  died  because 
he  had  sinned,  may  appear  beautiful  and  glorious 
as  the  garb  of  one  who  died  only  that  he  might 
atone  and  save  from  sin.  The  scar  of  a  felon's 
brand  is  the  perpetual  mark  of  his  infamy,  but  the 
scars  of  a  warrior's  wound  proclaim  his  courage 
and  publish  his  glory. 

There  is,  I  imagine,  a  design  in  this  representa 
tion  to  exhibit  to  us  that  glory  of  the  Redeemer 
which  is  peculiar  to  Him  only,  "  as  a  Lamb  that- 
had  been  slain."  He  has  a  glory  independent  of 
any  of  his  achievements  for  man ;  a  glory  to  which 
nothing  could  be  added,  and  from  which  nothing 
can  be  withdrawn,  whose  shining  can  neither  be 
brightened  nor  dimmed  by  the  obedience  or  dis 
obedience  of  his  creatures,  the  glory  of  his  essen 
tial  Deity.  There  is  a  glory,  moreover,  belonging 
to  him  as  the  One  Mediator  between  God  and 
man,  who,  without  ceasing  to  be  what  he  was,  yet 
took  upon  him  mysteriously  the  form  of  a  servant, 
and  thus  gathered  into  one  the  creature  and  the 
Creator,  lighting  up  the  humanity  with  Deity,  and 


42  THE   LAMB    SLAIN 

clothing  Deity  with  humanity,  and  becoming  a  form 
for  the  manifestation  of  the  invisible  God. 

But  the  peculiar  glory  of  the  Redeemer  resulted 
from  his  work  as  Mediator.  To  accomplish  this 
work  he  assumed  humanity.  The  nature  which 
had  sinned  was  the  nature  to  be  redeemed,  and  it 
could  be  redeemed  only  by  that  which  was  effected 
in  the  nature  which  had  sinned.  Divinity  alone 
could  not  be  a  Mediator ;  humanity  alone  could  not 
be.  The  nature  of  the  office,  implying  two  parties, 
supposes  of  necessity  a  sympathy  with  both  ;  and 
as  God  and  man  are  the  parties,  none  but  the  God- 
man  can  possibly  be  the  Mediator.  Hence  it  is 
that  Christ  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant. 
Hence  it  is  that  "  the  Word  was  made  flesh."  By 
sorrowing  and  obeying  in  the  nature  which  had  re 
belled  ;  by  keeping  it  undefiled,  and  then  offering 
it  through  the  Eternal  Spirit  a  sacrifice  unto  God, 
Christ  accomplished  the  end  of  his  office  ;  and  now 
I  would  have  you  distinctly  to  observe,  as  the  illus 
tration  of  the  point  before  us,  that  he  accomplished 
his  work  through  suffering.  The  "  Captain  of  our 
Salvation  was  made  perfect,  or  exalted  to  glory  by 
his  sufferings."  "  By  death  he  destroyed  him  who 
had  the  power  of  death."  He  died,  but  not  as  sin 
ners  die ;  he  fell,  but  not  as  falls  the  child  of  mor 
tality.  His  wounds  overcame  his  enemy ;  and 
death  as  it  took  hold  upon  Christ,  did  but  paralyze 
itself.  We  often  say  of  some  earthly  warrior,  that 
"  he  fell  in  the  moment  of  victory ;"  but  Christ  did 
more  than  this,  he  obtained  his  victory  by  falling ; 
and  if  the  military  chieftain  returning  a  conqueror 


IN   THE   MIDST    OF   THE   THRONE.  43 

from  the  conflict  manifests  his  energy,  and  prowess, 
and  bravery  by  the  wounds  which  he  bears  away 
with  him  from  the  battle-field,  why  can  we  not  un 
derstand  how  the  appearance  of  Jesus  Christ  on 
high,  "  as  a  Lamb  that  had  been   slain,"   is   the 
brightest   illustration    of    his   grandeur.      If    his 
wounds  were  the  arms  by  which  he  conquered,  and 
his  death  the  engine  by  which  he  shook  to  pieces 
the  despotism  of  Satan,  what  attire  can  be  so  glo 
rious  a  covering  to  his  humanity,  as  the  print  of 
the  nails  and  the  gash  of  the  spear  ?     Under  what 
aspect  can  he  show   himself  more  beautiful  than 
that  of  a  lamb  slain  ?     Where  is  the  incongruity, 
the  want  of  strict  keeping  between  the  scenery  of 
heaven  and  this  imagery  of  woe  ?     These  signs  of 
death  are  the  emblems  of  victory  worn  by  the  con 
queror  ;  the  banner  which  floats  over  him  is  em 
blazoned  with  his  enterprize :  the  covering  which 
enwraps  him  is  written  all  over  with  his  successes ; 
and  if  the  marks  of  death  are  thus  the  tokens  of 
triumph,  we  wonder  not  that  he  wears  them ;  we 
wonder  not  that  the  cros  sshould  be  near  him,  and 
the  garment  in  which  he  bled  should  be  thrown 
around  him,  and  that  the  burning  cherubim  and 
seraphim,  when  they  would  sing  his  praise,  take 
their  harps  and  sweep  them  to  the  chorus, "  Worthy 
is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain." 

2.  Now,  if  we  have  gone  so  far  in  our  remarks, 
as  to  shew  that  this  peculiar  appearance  of  Christ 
in  heaven  was  the  best  and  brightest  illustration  of 
his  glory  as  a  Redeemer,  let  us  essay  to  go  one 


44:  THE   LAMB    SLAIN 

step  farther,  that  we  may  ascertain  whether  there 
is  not  that  about  it  which  administers  to  our  own 
personal  comfort,  security,  and  hope. 

"  Christ  was  once  offered,"  we  are  told  in  the 
Scriptures,  "  to  bear  the  sins  of  many ;"  and  in  re 
liance  upon  the  statements  of  the  same  Scriptures, 
we  believe,  that  "  by  the  one  offering  of  himself, 
he  hath  perfected  forever  them  that  are  sanctified." 
In  that  one  oblation  there  was  such  a  virtue,  that 
no  amount  of  iniquity,  however  aggravated,  can 
call  for  a  new  atonement.  Under  the  law  the  sac 
rifices  were  continually  offered ;  with  the  dawn  of 
the  morning  and  the  shades  of  the  evening  victims 
must  die  for  the  offences  of  the  congregation.  But 

o       o 

Christ  having  appeared  as  the  great  anti-type  of  the 
ancient  offerings,  has  by  one  sacrifice  made  a  full  and 
complete  atonement.  But  while  we  cling  to  this  one 
sacrifice,  believing  that  no  sin  ever  has  been,  no  sin 
ever  will  be  committed,  for  which  this  will  not  suffice, 
we  believe  also  that  Christ  is  "  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever."  And  what  do  we  mean  by  this 
sameness  ?  Am  I  wrong  when  I  say  he  is  the  same, 
so  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  age  in  his  sacrifice  ? 
that  centuries  cannot  give  antiquity  to  his  atone 
ment,  time  cannot  wear  out  its  virtues;  that  his 
blood  is  as  precious  now  as  when  first  it  was  shed, 
and  the  fountain  for  sin  and  uncleanness  flows  with 
a  stream  as  full  and  purifying  as  when  first  it  was 
opened  ?  And  how  ?  Simply  because  by  his  inter 
cession  he  perpetuates  his  sacrifice  ;  and  his  offering, 
though  not  repeated  on  earth,  is  incessantly  pre 
sented  in  heaven.  It  was  enough  that  he  should 


i;NT    THE   MIDST    OF    THE   THKONE.  45 

once  die  to  make  atonement,  seeing  he  ever  lives 
to  make  intercession. 

Now,  when  we  read  that  Jesus  Christ,  in  heaven, 
appears  as  "  the  Lamb  that  had  been  slain,"  you 
will  not  consider  me  as  wresting  the  inspired  lan 
guage  or  drawing  a  conclusion  any  broader  than 
my  premises,  when  I  infer  that  he  is  now  carrying 
on  in  heaven  the  very  office  and  work  which  he 
commenced  when  upon  earth ;  and  though  there  is 
no  visible  altar,  and  no  literal  sacrifice,  no  endur 
ance  of  anguish,  and  no  shedding  of  blood ;  yet  still 
he  presents  vividly  and  energetically  the  marks  of 
his  passion,  and  the  effect  is  the  same  as  though  he 
died  daily,  and  acted  over  again  and  again  the 
scene  of  his  tremendous  conflict  with  "  the  powers 
of  darkness." 

We  can  hardly  imagine  a  figure  which  can  more 
clearly  than  that  of  our  text,  express  the  idea  that 
Jesus  Christ  on  high  presents  himself  as  a  mighty 
intercessor,  an  intercessor,  not  because  he  pleads 
with  the  plaintiveness  of  entreaty,  or  the  eloquence 
of  tears;  but  because  he  covers  the  defenceless 
with  the  shadow  of  his  wing ;  because,  whatever 
may  be  our  necessities,  however  great  the  things 
we  may  need,  however  umvorthy  we  may  be  of 
one  of  them,  he  has  secured  by  his  death  a  supply 
for  our  every  want ;  and  now  by  presenting  the 
merits  of  that  death,  he  asks  and  secures  the  abun 
dant  outgoings  of  heavenly  influence  for  the  mean 
est  of  his  disciples. 

There  are  sins  daily  committed,  in  thought,  word 
and  deed  ;  how  could  they  be  pardoned,  were  it 


46  THE   LAMB   SLAIN 

not  for  "  the  Lamb  slain  in  the  midst  of  the  throne." 
Why  do  we  look  for  the  descent  of  the  Comforter, 
the  aids  of  that  Holy  Spirt,  without  whom  nothing 
is  strong,  nothing  is  holy,  if  not  because  Christ  in 
tercedes?    Why  do  we  cherish  such  magnificent 
hopes  2     Hopes,  whose  objects,   because  of  their 
grandeur,  are  symbolized  to  us  under  the  images  of 
eternal  crowns  and  immortal  sceptres.     Why  are 
we  not  visionaries  for  indulging  such  hopes,  and 
supposing  it  not  only  probable  but  certain,  that 
things  so  rich  and  radiant  should  be  placed   upon 
the  brows,  or  given  into  the  hands  of  beings,  who, 
if  measured  by  a  standard  of  righteousness   and 
truth,  deserve  nothing  but  a  heritage  of  shame '( 
Because  we  see  in  "  the  Lamb  slain  in  the  midst  of 
the  throne,"  marks  which  identify  him  with  one, 
who  while  upon  the  earth  left  these  words  to  en 
courage  his  disciples'  hearts,  "  I  appoint  unto  you 
a  kingdom,  as  my  Father  hath  appointed  unto  me." 
The  intercession  of  Christ  consists  in  his  perpetual 
presentation  of  his  one  all-sufficient  sacrifice,  and  as 
that  intercession  is  essential  to  the  life,  the  comfort, 
and  the  hope  of  his  people,  so  is  the  assurance  of 
its  reality  conveyed  to  their  minds  by  the  appear 
ance,  which  he  is  represented  as  wearing  in  heaven, 
that  of  a  lamb  that  had  been  slain,  exhibiting  con 
stantly  the  marks  of  the  sacrificial  offering. 

As  we  have  already  seen,  therefore,  that  no 
aspect  could  be  more  honourable  than  this  to 
Christ  himself,  and  as  we  have  now  shewn  how  in 
dispensable  it  is  to  his  church  that  he  should  wear 
it,  we  are  satisfied,  that  no  nobler  or  more  fitting 


IN    THE   MIDST    OF   THE    THRONE.  47 

description  of  him  in  glory,  could  be  given  than 
the  one  we  have  been  calling  you  to  study ;  and  if 
myriads  of  exalted  creatures  should  gather  around 
him,  and  break  out  in  a  song,  which  should  be 
echoed  by  every  creature  in  heaven  and  earth,  and 
under  the  earth,  no  richer,  sweeter  melody  could 
be  wafted  to  our  ears,  none  more  glorifying  to  the 
Redeemer,  than  that  of  praise  to  "  the  Lamb  that 
had  been  slain." 

Indulge  me,  if  you  please,  in  one  more  thought 
before  I  conclude  my  explanation  of  the  symbol. 
There  is  no  real,  nor  as  we  thus  look  at  the  sub 
ject,  is  there  any  apparent  incongruity,  between 
the  magnificence  and  glory  of  the  throne,  as  pre 
sented  in  vision  to  the  apostle,  and  the  marred 
aspect  of  the  Redeemer  as  he  is  seen  moving  amid 
all  this  grandeur ;  so  far  from  it,  that  the  beauty 
and  effect  of  the  vision  results  from  its  combination 
of  these,  at  first  sight,  apparently  opposite  exhibi 
tions.  There  is  the  throne  ;  it  is  a  throne  of  ma 
jesty,  but  in  the  midst  of  it  is  a  form,  bearing  the 
traces  of  anguish  and  of  death ;  and  surely  if  this 
teaches  us  anything,  it  teaches  us  that  the  crucified 
is  not  lost  in  the  glorified ;  the  diadem  on  his  brow 
is  the  diadem  of  "  the  King  of  kings  ;"  but  the  fore 
head,  there  are  deep  lines  of  sympathy  traced  there, 
which  tell  us  that  it  is  still  that  of  "  the  man  of 
sorrows."  If  we  had  been  informed  merely  that 
the  Redeemer  had  ascended  on  high,  that  augels 
had  met  him,  and  heaven  rung  with  his  praises, 
that  he  had  risen  to  a  dignity  which  we  could 
never  estimate,  and  a  power  which  we  could  never 


48  THE    LAMB    SLAIN 

calculate,    and   a   happiness   of  which   we    could 
never  form  a  conception ;  we  should  seem  so  far 
separated  from  him,  there  would  be  such  a  broad, 
deep  gulf  dividing  us,  there  would  in  appearance 
be  so  little  in  common  between  us,  that  we  could 
hardly  apprehend   the   fact  that  Christ  and   his 
church  make  but  one  body,  he  being  the  Head  and 
they  the  members.    While  he  is  in  the  midst  of  his 
splendours,  and  all  this  glory  is  thrown  around  him, 
where  can  be  sympathy  for  the  afflicted,  where  a 
fellow  feeling  for  those    who  are  still  struggling 
with  the  trials  and  temptations  of  the  flesh  ?     At 
this  point  we  go  back  to  the  fact,  that  he  retains 
the  marks  of  his  sufferings ;  the  crucified  is  not  lost 
in  the  glorified ;  we  cannot  measure  his  power,  his 
dignity,  or  his  happiness,  but  whatever  they  may 
be,  they  have  not  removed  Christ  to  a  distance 
from  his  members  ;  he  is  still  linked  with  all  "  who 
sorrow  in  Zion ;"  for  though  he  is  in  the  midst  of 
the   throne,    and   surrounded    by   the   praises   of 
heaven,  he  is  there,  and  is  praised  there,  "  a  lamb 
as  it  had  been  slain ;"  and  while  he  bears  the  marks 
of  the  scourge,  the  nails,  and  the  spear,  we  are  safe 
in  believing  that  he  can  feel  for  us  in  trouble,  and 
succour  us  in  trial.    It  is  precisely  this  combination 
of  the  emblems  of  grandeur,  and  the  mementoes  of 
his  sorrow,  which  makes  the  exhibition  so  peculi 
arly  beautiful  and  interesting  to  us ;  there  are  the 
traces  of  his  sorrow  to  teach  us  his  sympathy,  there 
is  the  throne,  to    reveal  to  us  his  power ;   and  thus 
who  is  the  Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  but 
our  sympathizing  and  Almighty  Saviour. 


IN   THE   MIDST    OF   THE   THEONE.  49 

3.  If  we  have  thus  explained  the  reason,  and  un 
folded  the  lessons  of  this  peculiar  appearance  of 
Christ  in  heaven,  as  presented  in  the  text,  let  us 
look  for  a  moment  at  the  relations  which  he  sus 
tains,  as  possessed  of  infinite  wisdom  and  unlimited 
power  to  govern  the  world,  symbolized  by  "  the 
seven  eyes,  and  the  seven  horns,  which  are  the 
seven  spirits  of  God,  sent  forth  into  all  the  earth." 

Xo  doctrine,  my  brethren,  is  more  plainly  taught 
in  the  Bible  than  that  Christ  by  his  sufferings  has 
been  exalted  to  a  throne  of  universal  dominion, 
"  given  to  be  head  over  all  things  to  the  church ;"  so 
that  Providence  has  brought  all  its  resources,  and 
all  its  instrumentalities,  and  laid  them  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  to  be  used  in  subserviency  to,  and 
in  furtherance  of,  its  grand  design.  The  Redeemer 
has  a  kingdom  and  an  end  for  which  that  kingdom 

o  o 

exists  peculiarly  his  own  ;  and  he  must  reign  until 
his  reign  is  universally  acknowledged,  and  "  all  his 
enemies  are  put  under  his  feet."  It  is  as  "  the 
Lamb  slain"  that  he  is  upon  the  throne ;  and,  of 
course,  his  universal  government  is  designed  to 
illustrate  the  glory  and  execute  the  purposes  of 
redemption.  The  time  is  coming  when  every  tribe, 
every  soul  upon  the  earth  shall  bow  to  the  cross ; 
when  the  Redeemer's  kingdom  shall  be  reared  upon 
the  wreck  of  all  opposing  sovereignty,  and  all  men 
shall  call  him  blessed.  Providence,  as  directed  by 
Christ,  has  been,  and  is  now  engaged  in  bringing 
about  this  great  consummation. 

The  world  in  which  we  live,  wTith  the  influences 
which  are  at  work,  and  the  events  and  changes 
4 


5()  THE   LAMB   SLAIN 

which,  are  taking  place  in  its  different  departments, 
varies  in  its  aspect  according  to  the  medium  through 
which  we  look  at  it.  The  politician  watches  events 
as  serving  to  illustrate  or  contradict  some  particular 
political  theory.  The  political  economist  studies 
"  the  signs  of  the  times,"  as  they  have  a  bearing 
upon  some  favourite  doctrine  relative  to  the  pro 
duction  of  wealth ;  and  each  is  waiting  for,  as  he 
predicts,  some  grand  demonstrations  when  all  men 
shall  have  their  rights,  and  the  prosperity  of  the 
world  shall  be  perfect,  as  the  laws  regulating  the 
development  of  the  world's  resources  shall  be  uni 
versally  understood  and  obeyed.  But  to  the 
Christian  the  world  wears  a  very  different  aspect, 
and  its  events  and  changes  have  a  very  different 
meaning  as  he  looks  upon  them  in  their  relation  to 
the  triumphs  of  the  Redeemer's  cross.  We  speak  in 
accordance  with  the  teaching  of  inspiration  and  the 
sure  word  of  prophecy,  when  we  say  that  every 
occurrence  is  the  herald  of  the  Redeemer's  triumph. 
We  may  not  be  able  to  show  the  connection  of 
every  thing  with  the  general  result,  or  the  tendency 
of  particular  movements  to  hasten  it ;  but  we  know 
that  there  is  nothing  in  this  world,  in  any  depart 
ment  of  human  enterprise  or  action,  nothing  com 
mon  or  uncommon,  melancholy  or  joyous,  trivial  or 
magnificent,  which  has  not  its  own  appropriate 
meaning  and  influence  in  relation  to  the  success  of 
the  Redeemer's  cause.  The  affairs  of  an  individual 
and  of  a  family,  no  less  than  the  affairs  of  states 
and  empires,  are  subservient  to  this  grand  issue. 
Whether  an  individual  is  preserved  or  stricken 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  THEONE.         51 

down  in  death,  whether  families  are  exalted  or  de 
pressed,  whether  nations  rise  or  fall,  whether  war 
convulses  kingdoms,  and  famine  and  pestilence  de 
cimate  the  population  of  the  earth,  or  peace  waves 
its  olive  branch  over  the  world,  and  health  and 
prosperity  prevail,  and  abundance  is  poured  out 
from  the  treasury  of  heaven's  bounty,  whether  the 
kings  of  the  world  join,  and  the  rulers  take  coun 
sel  together  against  the  Lord  and  his  Anointed, 
or  give  their  influence  directly  to  the  furtherance  of 
the  cause  of  Christ,  whether  he  of  the  triple  crown 
adopts  a  more  liberal  or  a  more  contracted  policy, 
and  other  potentates  encourage  or  oppose  his  move 
ments,  nothing  occurs  which  is  not  originated  or 
permitted  by  him  who  is  King  in  Zion,  and  head 
over  all  things  to  his  church,  nothing  which  is  not 
directed  or  overruled  to  the  furtherance  of  his 
grand  designs.  Thus  to  the  eye  which  faith  in 
the  sure  testimony  of  God  has  opened,  this  world, 
in  all  its  transactions  and  events,  wears  an  aspect 
of  wondrous  interest,  because  every  one  of  them 
has  some  undoubted  connection  with  the  grand 
and  final  development  of  the  system  of  redemption. 
We  may  not  be  able  to  see  clearly  the  lines  along 
which  runs  the  influence  of  divine  occurrences  in 
this  world ;  but  to  the  eye  of  Him  who  sitteth 
upon  the  throne,  they  are  lines  of  light,  all  con 
verging  to  one  point,  that  magnificent  result  upon , 
which  prophecy  delights  to  pour  all  its  splendid 
imagery,  when  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  shall 
become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  his  Christ, 
and  the  whole  human  population  shall  bow  at  the 


52  THE   LAMB    SLAIN 

name  of  the  Kedeemer.  The  days  which  are  pass 
ing  now,  are  the  days  of  the  Son  of  Man ;  and  each 
successive  one  as  it  passes,  heaving  into  being  new 
and  surprising  events,  is  but  an  illustration  of  the 
wisdom  and  the  might  of  Him  who  sits  upon  the 
throne,  as  they  all  mark  the  different  stages  of  that 
grand  revolution  which  is  going  on,  and  which  in 
its  issue  shall  show  the  earth  converted  into  a 
noble  temple,  and  that  consecrated  to  Christ ;  and 
whose  melody,  issuing  simultaneously  from  every 
dwelling-place,  shall  be  but  the  echo  of  the  anthem 
long  since  raised  in  heaven,  the  anthem  of  praise  to 
the  "  Lamb  that  has  been  slain." 

Take  this  thought  then,  and  throw  its  light  upon 
the  world  in  which  we  live,  and  what  a  different 
aspect  is  worn  by  every  thing.  What  before  ap 
peared  small,  now  looms  into  importance,  and  is 
seen  in  its  magnificence  and  grandeur ;  what  before 
appeared  great,  now  dwindles  down  into  its  own 
appropriate  insignificance.  The  great  and  the 
noble,  and  the  proud  of  earth,  lose  their  impor 
tance  ;  their  mighty  enterprizes,  and  their  grand  ex 
ploits,  sink  down  into  the  petty  strifes  of  an  ephe 
meral  ambition  to  the  eye  of  one  who  sees  the 
Lamb  slain  moving  amid  them  all,  directing  them 
all,  and  using  them  all  to  fulfil  the  purposes  of  his 
redeeming  mercy.  Nothing,  my  brethren,  is  great 
in  this  world,  but  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
nothing  but  that,  to  a  spiritual  eye,  has  an  air  of 
permanency.  The  history  of  the  past ;  has  been 
but  a  history  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  individuals  and 
of  nations ;  but  amid  all  the  changes  and  overturn- 


IN   THE    MIDST    OF   THE    TIIKOJSTE.  53 

ings  which  have  thus  far  gone  to  fill  up  the  annals 
of  time,  the  kingdom  of  Christ  has  remained,  and 
under  the  protection  of  Him  whose  wisdom  and 
power  are  symbolized  by  the  seven  spirits  of  God 
abroad  in  all  the  earth,  it  is  steadily  advancing, 
enlarging  its  boundaries  on  every  side,  and  going 
on  to  fill  the  earth.  Happy  the  man  who  can  look 
at  things  with  an  eye  of  faith,  and  attaches  him 
self  to  the  only  interest  which  is  abiding,  and  gives 
his  influence  to  the  only  cause  which  is  destined  to 
triumph.  The  man  who  takes  his  place  by  the 
side  of  the  Redeemer,  and  identifies  himself  with 
his  kingdom,  consecrating  his  influence  to  the 
cause  for  which  the  Lamb  slain  has  been  raised  to 
the  throne,  r  ccupies  the  only  position  worthy  of  a 
rational  being,  especially  one  whom  Christ  died  to 
save,  and  the  only  position  in  which  a  single  hope 
that  an  immortal  spirit  deems  worth  the  cherishing, 
can  ever  be  fulfilled. 

My  brethren,  allow  me  to  ask,  in  view  of  the 
subject  which  I  have  endeavoured,  though  I  am 
conscious  with  very  little  success,  to  set  before  you, 
what  relation  do  you  sustain  to  the  Lamb  slain ; 
what  part  are  you  taking  in  the  great  drama  which 
is  row  acting  upon  the  theatre  of  our  world  ?  If 
we  are  Christ's,  then  we  know  that  the  mark  of 
deliverance  is  upon  us,  and  in  the  night  of  tumult, 
and  confusion,  and  death,  God's  messengers  of  judg 
ment  shall  pass  over  and  leave  us  unharmed.  If 
we  are  Christ's,  then  amid  all  the  toil  and  trial 
which  we  may  be  called  to  endure,  as  we  look  up 
to  the  throne,  and  see  the  marks  of  the  crucifixion 


54  THE   LAMB   SLAIN 

on  him  who  occupies  it,  we  have  the  pledge  of  suc 
cour  and  safety.  If  we  are  Christ's,  then  his  wis 
dom  and  his  power,  pervading  all  the  earth,  and 
regulating  all  its  scenes,  give  conclusive  evidence 
that  not  one  hope  which  he  has  taught  us  to  cher 
ish  shall  fail.  If  we  are  Christ's,  then  the  very 
act  which  seals  our  covenant,  secures  our  triumph ; 
for  he  who  is  our  helper  reigns,  and  our  intercessor 
sits  upon  the  throne.  Is  it  so  then  with  us,  that  we 
are  safe  under  the  covering  of  this  great  intercessor, 
and  can  we  believe  that  he  is  now  interposing  on 
our  behalf  the  all-prevailing  plea  of  his  wondrous 
sacrifice  ?  Is  it  so,  that  we  are  indeed  among  the 
number  of  those  for  whom  his  wisdom  plans  and 
his  power  executes,  the  loss  of  one  of  whom  would 
demonstrate  the  worthlessness  of  his  atonement 
and  rob  his  diadem  of  its  glory?  You  cannot 
imagine  a  question  which,  in  point  of  interest  and 
importance,  can  for  a  moment  be  compared  with 
this !  Your  all  is  wrapped  up  in  it.  It  may  not 
be  long  ere  the  symbols  of  Egypt's  dark  night 
of  destruction  shall  be  fulfilled  in  the  still  deeper 
darkness  which  shall  gather  around  us.  Is  the 
blood  upon  our  door-posts,  so  that  if  this  very  night 
God  should  pass  through  the  land,  he  should  see 
the  mark,  and  leave  us  unharmed  ? 

Very  much  do  I  fear  concerning  some  of  us,  that 
the  peace-speaking  and  life-giving  blood  has  not 
yet  been  sprinkled  upon  the  heart  and  the  conscience. 
Very  much  do  I  fear  for  some,  that,  though  nomi 
nally  Christian,  their  hearts  are  upon  their  goods, 
their  honours,  and  their  pleasures,  rather  than  upon 


IN   THE   MIDST    OF   THE   TIIEONE.  55 

Christ.  They  feel  no  need  of  a  Redeemer,  see  no 
beauty  in  him,  have  no  sympathy  with  him,  give 
no  influence  to  his  cause.  Is  it  so  with  you,  my 
brethren  ?  Then  lose  sight,  I  pray  you,  of  your 
speaker  a  moment,  and  let  the  Lamb  slain  be  your 
preacher  to-day ;  the  cross  is  his  pulpit,  anguish 
his  argument,  his  eloquence  is  blood.  Oh !  hear 
him,  and  let  not  your  hearts  by  hearing  him  un 
moved  prove  themselves  harder  than  the  rocks 
which  were  rent  asunder.  He  preaches  of  sin  • 
that  forgetfulness  of  God  and  neglect  of  his  laws, 
which  you  think  a  trifle,  and  bids  you  estimate  it 
in  view  of  his  agony  and  blood,  which  as  its  only 
expiation,  can  alone  be  the  true  revealers  of  its 
nature  and  the  just  measures  of  its  enormity.  He 
preaches  of  perdition ;  deep,  dark,  and  dreadful 
must  it  be,  when  the  terrors  of  the  crucifixion  are 
its  most  fitting  symbols.  He  preaches  of  compas 
sion  ;  his  language  glows  with  love  ;  it  is  rich,  inex 
haustibly  rich  in  encouragement.  "  I  have  found 
a  ransom."  "  Look  unto  me  and  be  ye  saved." 

But  we  have  not  been  satisfied  with  taking  you 
to  Calvary ;  we  have  endeavoured  to  carry  you 
within  the  veil,  that  you  might  hear  the  same  truths 
which  were  delivered  under  a  darkened  sun,  and 
upon  a  trembling  earth,  woven  into  the  anthem  of 
angels  and  archangels.  Ye  who  are  ashamed  of 
Christ,  listen,  I  pray  you,  to  the  notes  of  the  cruci 
fixion,  as  swept  from  the  golden  harps  of  principal 
ities  and  powers,  and  borne  upon  a  tide  of  melody, 
whose  sound  is  as  the  sound  of  many  waters. 
Among  the  voices  which  the  apostle  heard  tuned  to 


56  THE    LAMB    SLAIX 

the  praises  of  the  Lamb,  were  the  voices  of  those 
in  whose  behalf  the  Word  never  was  made  flesh, 
for  whom  he  did  not  die,  and  whom  he  did  not 
redeem.  And  if  angels  and  archangels  admire  and 

O  o 

adore  the  Lamb  that  was  slain ;  if  they  discover 
the  wonders  of  the  atonement ;  if  they  understand 
the  greatness  of  the  achievement  which  wrought 
out  our  salvation,  shall  any  of  us,  the  very  objects 
of  this  wondrous  interposition,  shall  we  for  whom 
the  Saviour  left  his  throne,  we  for  whom  he  was 
betrayed  into  the  hands  of  wicked  men,  crucified 
and  slain,  be  ashamed  of  giving  him  our  homage? 
and  swearing  to  him  our  allegiance  ? 

God  have  mercy  on  the  man  who  can  give  to 
this  question  an  affirmative  answer  !  Woe  unto 
him  who  can  practically  judge  the  Lamb  of  God  to 
T>e  unworthy  of  his  obedience,  unworthy  of  his  con 
fidence,  unworthy  of  his  love.  What  is  this  but  ar 
raying  one's  self  against  all  that  is  gentle,  all  that 
is  tender,  all  that  is  meek,  all  that  is  forbearing  in  the 
Saviour  of  sinners  ?  And  when  that  which  is  gen 
tle  is  roused  to  anger,  and  that  which  is  meek  into 
fierce  indignation ;  what  are  they  ?  and  who  can 
stand  before  them  ?  Look  ye,  my  brethren,  upon 
Christ  in  his  tenderness,  and  provoke  not  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb.  Behold  him  as  he  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world,  lest  ye  be  crushed  beneath 
his  feet,  when  he  treadeth  the  wine  press  of  his 
fierce  indignation.  The  voices  of  the  blest  as  they 
follow  him  whithersoever  he  goeth,  no  less  than 
the  voices  of  the  lost  from  their  heritage  of  shame, 
bid  you  to  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  which  tak- 


IN   THE    MIDST    OE   THE   THROVE.  57 

eth  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  Hear  them,  and 
hear  them  speedily,  that  ye  may  be  able  now  and 
hereafter  more  fully  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  anthem' — "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  which  was 
slain ;"  for  oh,  be  ye  sure  of  this,  my  dear  brethren, 
if  with  uplifted  heads  and  joyful  voices,  we  mingle 
not  at  last  in  that  wondrous,  mighty  song,  which  is 
to  be  pealed  forth  from  a  renewed  and  purified  uni 
verse,  another  cry  shall  be  forced  from  us  by  our  deep 
consternation  and  terror.  "  Hide  us  from  the  face 
of  him.  who  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb." 


REASONS  FOR  EMBRACING  THE  GOSPEL. 


"  Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready." — ST.  LUKE  xiv.  17. 

IT  is  not  so  much  upon  the  nature  of  the  invita 
tion  presented  in  the  text,  as  upon  the  reasons  for 
embracing  it,  that  we  design  to  insist  this  morning. 
We  take  it  for  granted,  as  a  point  not  now  in  dis 
pute,  that  the  offer  of  the  Gospel  is  full,  free, 
universal — no  terms  could  be  used  to  express  it 
more  general  and  unrestricted.  Whatever  the 
Gospel  may  be,  whatever  it  may  involve,  it  is  a 
message  for  all — "  Go,  preach  my  Gospel  to  every 
creature,"  is  the  commission  under  which  it  is  an 
nounced  to  the  world.  It  is  meant  for  man  where- 
ever  he  may  be,  in  whatever  circumstances  placed, 
whatever  may  be  his  character,  his  experiences, 
his  hopes,  or  his  fears — for  man,  as  man — for  man 
as  a  creature  of  time — for  man  as  an  heir  of  im 
mortality — for  man  as  a  sinner,  who  needs  forgive 
ness — for  man  as  lost,  who  needs  recovering  and 
renewing  influences.  If  there  is  a  human  being 
who  has  never  sinned,  the  Gospel  is  not  for  him. 


REASONS   FOE   EMBRACING   THE    GOSPEL.  59 

If  there  is  one  who  is  perfectly  satisfied  with,  him 
self,  who  has  no  trials,  no  weaknesses,  no  wants, 
the  Gospel  is  not  for  him.  It  goes  upon  the  pre 
sumption  that  we  are  a  race  of  fallen  creatures,  who 
have  sinned  against  God,  and  have  forsaken  the  foun 
tain  of  living  waters,  and  makes  a  provision  for  us 
as  such,  and  it  is  our  want  which  brings  us  within  its 
scope  and  under  its  blessed  influence ;  and  among 
those  to  whom  its  message  has  come,  the  first 
human  being  is  yet  to  be  found  who  is  excluded 
from  its  offers.  "  Whosoever  will,  may  come  and 
take  of  the  waters  of  life  freely,"  is  the  free  and  un 
trammelled  invitation  we  are  commissioned  to  utter. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark,  moreover,  that  the  Gospel 
deals  with  men,  not  in  the  mass,  but  as  individuals. 
It  is  a  message  for  the  world,  only  as  it  is  a  message 
for  each  and  every  man  in  the  world — it  is  a  pro 
vision  for  you  and  for  me,  as  truly  as  though  there 
were  no  other  beings  in  existence  to  whom  it  could 
have  any  reference,  and  then  only  do  we  understand 
it,  when  we  look  upon  it  and  listen  to  it  as  an  invi 
tation  addressed  to  us  individually.  These  positions 
I  take  to  be  incontrovertible.  If  I  had  doubts 
here,  I  should  be  at  a  loss  how  to  preach  the  Gos 
pel.  If  it  was  not  certain  to  my  mind,  that  its  pro 
visions  were  meant  for  each  and  every  one  of  you, 
and  were  tendered  to  each  and  every  one  of  you,  I 
should  not  dare  to  preach  it  to  any  of  you,  for  in 
saying  "  Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready,"  I 
might  be  uttering  an  untruth. 

It  is  upon  the  ground  then  of  this  doctrine,  that 
I  come  this  morning  to  speak  to  you,  my  hearer, 


60          REASONS    FOE   EMBRACING    THE    GOSPEL. 

as  an  individual,  and  I  wish  you  to  isolate  yourself 
from  all  others,  and  listen  to  my  text,  as  addressed 
to  you  personally.  Sinful,  weary,  dissatisfied,  un 
happy  man,  Christ  says,  there  is  pardon,  and  rest, 
and  fulness  of  joy  for  you.  "  All  things  are  ready ;" 
come,  embrace  his  offer,  and  receive  his  blessings. 
To  urge  this  invitation  upon  your  acceptance  is  my 
present  design,  by  simply  setting  before  you  some 
of  the  reasons  by  which  it  is  enforced.  If  the  Gos 
pel  is  true,  if  it  is  what  it  proclaims  itself  to  be, 
if  you  are  what  it  represents  you  to  be,  if  you 
must  be  what  it  commands  you  to  be,  then  you 
have  in  the  Gospel  itself,  in  the  principles  which  it 
unfolds,  in  the  provisions  which  it  makes,  in  the 
stern  necessity  of  obedience  which  it  imposes,  over 
whelming  reasons  for  embracing  it.  Nothing,  I 
care  not  what  it  is,  commends  itself  so  strongly  to 
your  mind — almost  any  thing  else  you  can  dispense 
with — fix  your  mind  upon  any  thing,  I  care  not 
what  it  is,  however  strong  your  attachments  to  it 
may  be,  you  can  do  without  it ;  but  you  cannot  do 
without  the  gospel.  If  the  Bible  is  true,  you  cannot 
do  without  an  interest  in  Jesus  Christ ;  and  this  is 
the  great  reason  why  you  should  embrace  it. 

NoWj  in  unfolding  this  reason,  it  is  no  part  of  my 
design  to  enter  upon  an  extended  argument  to 
prove  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  nor  upon  an  extend 
ed  illustration  of  its  principles,  its  provisions,  and 
its  claims.  I  shall  find  the  materials  of  my  appeal 
to-day  in  your  own  clearly  settled  views  and  con 
victions  upon  these  points,  in  your  experiences,  in 
your  conscious  need  of  something  which  you  do  not 


REASONS    FOB   EMBEACING    THE    GOSPEL.  61 

now  possess,  and  which  you  are  satisfied  you  can 
find  in  the  gospel. 

1.  First,  then,  you  believe  that  the  gospel  is 
true  ;  perhaps  upon  no  one  point  are  your  con 
victions  so  full,  and  clear,  and  decided.  You 
avow  yourself  a  believer  in  the  Bible ;  you  could 
not,  with  your  present  views  and  feelings,  bring 
yourself  to  take  the  position  of  the  Atheist,  or 
the  Infidel,  or  to  "sit  in  the  seat  of  the  scorn 
ful  ;"  you  would  not  wish  that  your  nearest  friend 
should  suspect  even  that  your  sympathies  might 
have  such  a  tendency.  It  would  injure  your  repu 
tation  in  the  world  ;  it  would  still  more  injure  your 
feelings.  We  do  not  know  how  this  conviction  of 
the  truth  of  the  gospel  has  been  reached  ;  it  may 
perhaps  have  been  the  result  of  a  lengthened  and 
careful  examination  of  the  testimonies  which  have 
been  gathered  around  Christianity;  it  may  have 
resulted  from  a  self-evidencing  power  in  the  word 
of  God  itself;  for  one,  we  believe  that  the  Scrip 
tures  carry  along  with  them  their  own  best  creden 
tials  ;  its  disclosures  bear  the  evidence  of  their  truth 
upon  their  very  face  ;  and  no  man  can  sit  down 
with  an  honest  mind  to  the  perusal  of  the  inspired 
page,  and  rise  up  from  it  with  the  conviction  that 
he  has  been  studying  an  ingenious  fable — there 
may  be  difficulties  here  which  the  sincere  inquirer 
may  be  unable  to  remove ;  a  great  variety  of  ques 
tions  may  start  up,  which  he  cannot  answer,  but 
even  while  he  is  grappling  with  those  very  difficul 
ties,  and  endeavoring  to  work  out  answers  to  these 
puzzling  questions,  his  conviction  of  the  truth  of 


62          EEASONS   FOR   EMBRACING   THE   GOSPEL. 

this  written  testimony  will  be  continually  growing 
stronger  and  deeper.  This  much  is  certain  that 
there  is  something  in  every  human  bosom,  which 
wakes  responsive  to  the  general  spirit  and  teach 
ing  of  the  gospel.  You  have  no  feelings  in  refer 
ence  to  any  other  book  like  those  which  belong  to 
you  when  you  approach  the  Bible ;  and  that  sim 
ply  because  you  think  that  God  is  speaking  to  you  ; 
and  the  thoughts  here  recorded  find  their  way  into 
your  inmost  soul.  Even  the  man  who  has  worked 
himself  up  to  skepticism  has  certain  undefinable 
emotions  when  he  comes  to  commune  with  this  book 
of  God ;  because,  amid  all  his  doubts,  which  he  has 
carefully  been  nursing,  he  cannot  keep  down  the  fear 
that  in  every  one  of  his  doubts  he  may  be  wrong. 

The  general  force  of  public  opinion,  moreover,  in 
every  Christianized  community,  is  in  favour  of  the 
gospel;  the  men  who  think  but  little  upon  the 
subject  cannot  in  view  of  the  effects  of  the  gospel 
upon  the  public  mind,  doubt  its  truth.  A  sys 
tem  which  has  done  so  much ;  done  what  no  human 
wisdom,  no  human  influence  have  ever  yet  availed 
to  do,  cannot  be  a  deception ;  nothing  would  so 
shock  generally  the  public  mind,  as  a  system  of 
education  upon  avowedly  infidel  principles ;  and 
you  would  not  trust  your  children  to  its  influence 
for  an  hour.  In  fact,  my  brethren,  the  conviction 
of  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  whether  resulting  from 
examination  of  its  evidence,  from  a  knowledge  of 
its  effects,  or  from  the  influence  of  education,  is 
well  nigh  universal.  Some  unbelievers  there  are, 
but  they  are  comparatively  few,  and  even  these 


EEASOISTS   FOE   EMBE AGING    THE    GOSPEL.  65 

have  reached  their  scepticism  for  the  most  part  by 
artificial  means ;  it  is  not  the  result  of  the 
natural  and  unfettered  actings  of  their  own  minds 
in  view  of  the  testimony  of  God ;  it  is  an  exotic, 
which  requires  careful  nursing  to  keep  it  alive. 

It  matters  not,  however,  whence  this  conviction 
has  been  derived ;  we  have  the  fact,' which  is  all  we 
need  upon  this  present  occasion ;  you  believe  the 
gospel  to  be  true,  and  here  we  take  our  stand  and 
make  our  appeal.  Why  not  embrace  it  {  Produce 
your  cause,  bring  forth  your  strong  reasons.  Why 
not  embrace  the  truth  ?  You  are  a  sinner  and 
need  pardon ;  you  believe  it — God  offers  you  pardon 
for  Christ's  sake — you  believe  it — you  have  not  to 
go  into  an  examination  of  its  evidences  ;  the  reality 
of  the  Gospel,  as  a  system  of  pardoning  and  recover 
ing  mercy,  is  past  all  question  in  your  mind ;  why 
not  receive  it  into  your  heart  and  submit  to  it. 
Its  terms,  perhaps,  you  say  are  exclusive ;  but  it 
says  "  there  is  none  other  name  given  under  heaven 
among  men  whereby  they  may  be  saved,"  but  the 
name  of  Jesus ;  and  you  believe  it ;  and  what 
though  they  may  be  exclusive,  they  are  true.  It 
says  "  Come,  for  all  things  are  ready,"  "Whosoever 
comes  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  "  If  ye 
believe  not  that  I  am  he,  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins." 
And  it  is  all  true,  and  what  more  than  truth 
does  a  man  need  to  determine  him  ?  If  it  is  true,  it 
cannot  be  evaded ;  if  it  is  true  it  will  stand  eternally ; 
if  it  is  true,  no  man  can  say  why  he  should  not  em 
brace  it.  If  upon  this  point  you  had  any  question 
in  your  own  mind,  if  you  feared  the  adoption  of  a 


64  EEASONS   FOE   EMBEACINa   THE    GOSPEL. 

falsehood,  if  you  suspected  "even  that  there  might 
be  danger  of  error  in  embracing  the  Gospel, 
then  there  might  be  a  reason  why  you  should 
not  become  a  Christian  till  all  doubts  were  remov 
ed  ;  but  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind ;  and  we  ap 
peal  to-day  to  your  own  convictions,  while  we  say, 
u  Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready."  You  cannot 
get  away  from  this  direct  home  appeal,  except  as 
you  throw  suspicion  on  the  gospel  itself,  and  then 
you  must  be  driven  over  upon  the  ground  of  the 
skeptic,  upon  which  you  are  afraid  to  tread ;  and 
gather  around  you,  and  submit  yourself  to  influ 
ences  which  you  feel  to  be  blighting  to  the  soul, 
withering  to  all  its  richest  joys  and  destructive  to 
its  most  precious  hopes. 

'2.  While  you  admit  the  Gospel  record  to  be  true, 
you  at  the  same  time  approve  of  the  entire  subject 
matter  of  its  testimony.  The  human  mind,  uncloud 
ed  by  prejudice,  and  unperverted  by  sophistry,  is 
always  in  favour  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  not  until  a 
man  has  been  schooled  and  disciplined  by  desires 
contrary  to  the  will  of  God,  that  he  is  able  to  cavil 
at  any  of  the  declarations  of  the  inspired  volume, 
or  find  fault  with  any  of  its  disclosures,  as  incon 
sistent.  Nay,  it  is  the  entire  reasonableness  of  the 
subject  matter  of  this  communication  from  heaven 
which  furnishes  one  of  the  most  convincing  argu 
ments  of  its  truth.  We  are  not  speaking  now  of  the 
man  who  by  reason  of  long  familiarity  with  wrong 
principles  has  benumbed  or  destroyed  his  power  of 
moral  perception  and  discrimination.  It  is  quite 
possible  for  one  to  bring  himself  to  that  state,  in 


REASONS   FOR   EMBRACING   THE   GOSPEL.  65 

which  he  cannot  distinguish  between   right   and 
wrong,  between  truth  and  error,  as  it  is  possible  to 
damage  the  eye  so  that  it  cannot  distinguish  be 
tween  colours ;  or  pervert  the  taste,  so  that  what  was 
once  nauseous  may  become  pleasant ;  or  injure  the 
ear,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  difference  between  a 
harmony  and  a  discord  ;  but  in  each  of  these  cases 
the  organ  is  in  a  diseased  or  unnatural  state,  and 
no  more  proves  that  all  colours,  all  tastes,  all  sounds, 
are  alike,  than  a  vitiated  moral  sense  proves  any  of 
God's  communications  to  be  unreasonable.     I  am 
not  now,  however,  speaking  of  what  a  skeptic  may 
think  of  the  word  of  God,  or  of  what  a  man  who 
wishes  the  gospel  were  false,  may  say  of  any  of  its 
declarations;  but  I  am  speaking  of  the  posture  of 
your  own  mind,  in  reference  to  the  subject  matter 
of  this  revelation ;  and  I  say,  that  there  is  not  a 
principle  here  unfolded,  nor  a  claim  here  enforced, 
that  does  not  approve  itself  to  you  as  being  what 
it  ought  to  be.     There  are  times,  I  admit,  when 
you  might,  perhaps,  wish  that  some  of  the  features 
of  the  gospel  system  were  different  from  what  they 
are ;  when  you  would  like  to  take  somewhat  off  from 
the  exclusiveness  of  its  claims  ;  when  it  would  suit 
you  better,  if  it  were  a  little  more  accommodating, 
a  little  more  uncompromising ;  but  mark,  these  are 
the  dictates  of  feeling,  and  not  of  reason ;  reason 
accords  with  the  principles  and  claims  of  the  gospel 
precisely  as  God  has  given  them ;  it  sees  that  if  they         /* 
were  different,  less  exclusive  than  they  are,  they     ^/ 
would  be   unworthy  of  God's    wisdom,    and   un 
deserving  of  man's  attention.     You  feel  that  as  a 

o 

5 


66  SEASONS    FOK    EMBKACING    THE    GOSPEL. 

creature  of  God,  you  ought  to  serve  Mm,  and  serve 
him  precisely  in  the  way  in  which  he  declares  he 
wishes  to  be  served.  If  you  have  sinned  against 
him,  you  ought  to  repent ;  if  he  has  provided  a  way 
for  your  forgiveness,  which  he  declares  to  be  the 
only  possible  way  for  forgiveness,  it  is  but  reason 
able  to  embrace  it ;  if  the  Son  of  God  has  inter 
fered  in  your  behalf,  and  by  his  own  death  secured 
you  the  offer  and  means  of  everlasting  life,  you  owe 
him  a  debt  of  gratitude  which  cannot  be  repaid, 
except  by  your  intelligent,  and  cordial,  and  un 
divided  service.  If  the  principles  of  the  Gospel 
.are  true,  and  you  admit  their  truth,  the  propriety 
of  the  claims  of  the  gospel  follows  of  necessity. 
Who  feels  that  it  is  wrong  to  serve  God  ?  Who 
looks  upon  obedience  to  Jesus  Christ  as  a  question 
of  doubtful  expediency  ?  Not  one  whom.  I  am  now 
addressing.  I  should  like  to  find  the  man  who 
thinks  it  would  degrade  him  as  a  rational  creature 
and  an  heir  of  immortality  to  be  a  Christian.  I 
should  like  to  find  the  man  who  admits  himself  to 
be  a  sinner,  who  feels  that  he  is  a  sinner,  who  is  at 
all  alive  to  the  importance  of  eternal  life,  who 
would  not,  as  his  only  rational  course,  come  to  this 
Bible  to  learn  what  he  must  believe  and  what  he 
must  do,  in  order  to  be  saved. 

On  the  other  hand,  not  one  of  my  hearers  intel 
ligently  and  heartily  approves  of  an  irreligious 
course.  Forgetfulness  of  God,  ingratitude  in  view 
of  his  mercies,  rebellion  against  his  authority,  a 
practical  disregard  of  his  claims,  never  commend 
themselves  to  your  minds  as  reasonable.  It  mat- 


REASONS    FOE    EMBRACING   THE    GOSPEL.  67 

ters  little  upon  what  ground  you  put  away  from 
you  the  obligations  of  religion,  it  matters  little 
how  plausible  the  aspect  which  a  sinful  heart  may 
throw  over  the  excuses  which  are  urged  for  a  neg 
lect  of  the  great  salvation,  they  are  never  such  as 
you  are  willing,  permanently,  to  rest  upon,  or 
always  to  abide  by.  So  far  from  it,  that  you  expect 
to  give  up,  sooner  or  later,  all  these  reasonings,  and 
apologies,  and  to  become,  what  you  are  not  now 
prepared  to  be,  a  Christian.  You  could  not  sit 
down  to  construct  an  argument  in  favour  of  atheism, 
or  infidelity ;  you  would  not  know  where  to  find 
the  materials  of  such  an  argument ;  every  thing  upon 
which  you  could  fix  your  mind  would  seem  to  be 
contrary  to  your  purpose.  I  am  not  speaking  of 
what  has  been  done,  or  of  what  some  men  might 
do  now;  but  of  what  you  could  do  with  your  pre 
sent  views  and  feelings.  You  consider  these  systems 
of  unbelief,  in  all  their  different  forms,  to  be  un 
reasonable  in  view  of  the  testimony  which  crowds 
from  every  direction  around  the  Bible,  which 
springs  from  its  own  pages,  or  which  is  returned  to 
you  from  the  effects  it  has  produced,  when 
ever  its  influence  has  been  felt ;  at  least,  they  seem 
to  be  so  to  your  convictions  ;  and  yet,  my  hearer, 
it  is  far  more  reasonable  for  a  man  to  sit  down, 
and  dispute  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  clear  and 
conclusive  as  they  may  appear  to  your  mind,  than 
it  is,  after  admitting  the  evidences  of  Christian 
ity,  to  disregard  its  claims.  I  mean,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  express  myself  in  other  words  to 
render  my  sentiment,  if  possible,  more  plain,  it  is 


68  REASONS    FOR    EMBRACING    THE    GOSPEL. 

more  reasonable  to  doubt  whether  God  has  spoken 
to  us  in  these  sacred  oracles,  than  admitting  this  to 
be  his  word,  to  doubt  whether  we  should  believe 
his  declarations,  and  obey  his  commandments. 
We  have  reached  then  another  stage  in  our  illus 
tration.  If  the  gospel  is  not  only  true,  but  if  in  all 
its  principles  and  claims  it  is  precisely  what  you 
feel  it  ought  to  be  ;  if  it  commends  itself  to  your 
understanding  as  good ;  if  you  can  find  no  argu 
ments  against  it ;  if  you  are  sure  that  you  will  never 
have  reason  to  reflect  upon  yourself  for  acting  in 
accordance  with  its  claims  ;  nay,  if  you  mean,  and 
certainly  expect,  sooner  or  later,  to  come  upon  the 
ground  where  it  would  put  you,  and  to  be  what  it 
requires  you  to  be,  why,  we  ask,  in  view  of  all  that 
is  intelligible  in  your  convictions  of  its  truth  and 
reasonableness,  why  not  embrace  it  ?  If  you  can 
not  come  and  be  a  Christian,  give  some  reason  for 
a  refusal,  which  will  wear  the  appearance,  at  least, 
of  consistency  with  your  acknowledged  views  and 
impressions. 

3.  I  make  another  point  here,  which  I  ask  you 
to  ponder.  In  my  preceding  remarks  upon  the 
reasonableness  of  the  gospel,  it  has  been  my  object 
to  shew  that  you  owe  it  to  yourself  to  be  a  Chris 
tian  ;  that  in  no  other  way  can  you  honour  your 
own  convictions  of  truth  and  propriety  ;  but  I  now 
add,  that  you  owe  something  to  God.  You  feel  that 
there  are  influences  thrown  around  you,  which  bind 
you  to  the  eternal  throne ;  do  what  you  may,  you 
cannot  reason  out  of  existence  all  sense  of  the  di 
vine  claims  upon  you ;  they  press  you  on  every 


BEASONS    FOK    EMBKACLNX}    THE    GOSPEL.  69 

side ;  they  sometimes  come  down  with  an  oppressive 
weight  upon  your  spirit,  and  the  fact  that  yon  have 
neglected  them,  or  forgotten  them,  or  postponed 
them  to  a  thousand  other  things,  is  overwhelming 
to  the  mind  in  view  of  its  certain  future  connec 
tions  ;  you  know  that  you  must  do  right  in  order 
to  he  at  peace ;  a  consciousness  of  wrong-doing 
mars  all  your  joy;  you  must  in  some  way  get  rid 
of  it,  or  be  an  unhappy  man.  Precisely,  at 
this  point  then,  I  meet  you ;  and  this  is  my 
appeal.  You  are  perfectly  satisfied  that  it  would 
be  right  for  you  to  be  a  Christian ;  you  have 
no  fears  that  you  would  be  breaking  any  of 
God's  commandments,  or  be  doing  violence  to  your 
own  conscience  were  you  to  embrace  the  offers  of 
the  gospel,  and  be  a  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ.  You 
never  yet  saw  a  man  in  your  state  of  mind  who 
had  any  misgivings  upon  this  point ;  you  have 
seen  skeptical  men  who  pretended  to  question  the 
propriety  of  becoming  Christians — they  cannot  be 
otherwise  than  sincere  in  their  doubts  if  they  are 
sincere  in  their  skepticism — and  yet  among  all 
those  who  profess  to  glory  in  their  skepticism,  there 
are  very  few,  if  any,  who  really  think  they  would 
be  committing  a  sin  against  God,  whose  consciences 
would  upbraid  or  torment  them  with  the  appre 
hension  of  judgment  in  the  event  of  their  becom 
ing  the  servants  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  reason  is,  they 
are  doubtful  about  their  doubts.  But  no  man  who  is 
convinced  of  the  truth  and  reasonableness  of  Chris 
tianity,  as  you  are,  ever  fears  that  he  shall  go 
wrong  in  becoming  a  Christian,  Your  conscience, 


70  REASONS    FOR   EMBRACING   THE    GOSPEL. 

my  hearer,  would  not  reprove  you  as  taking  a 
doubtful  step,  one  of  questionable  propriety,  were 
you  to  embrace  Jesus  Christ,  and  enter  upon  his 
service.  On  the  contrary,  conscience,  enlightened 
by  the  truth,  requires  you  to  do  it,  reproves  you 
for  not  doing  it,  and  heralds  a  painful  retribution 
for  neglecting  or  refusing  to  do  it.  In  whatever 
part  of  my  appeal  I  may  fail  to-day,  I  do  not  fail 
in  the  case  of  any  of  my  hearers  when  I  address 
myself  directly  to  his  conscience ;  this  is  with  me, 
and  I  can  hold  it ;  there  is  not  a  single  claim  of 
Jesus  Christ,  which,  when  it  is  laid  plainly  and  fully 
before  the  conscience  is  not  felt  to  be  right.  Every 
man  knows  that  he  must  be  a  Christian,  it  is  a 
matter  of  stern  necessity  with  him ;  he  is  troubled 
because  he  is  not  a  Christian  ;  he  is  troubled  when 
ever  he  thinks  of  his  present  relations  to  God,  be 
cause  he  knows  that  whatever  he  has,  he  has  not 
God's  blessing;  that  whatever  he  does,  so  far  as 
God's  requirements  are  concerned,  he  is  not  doing 
right ;  he  is  troubled  when  he  thinks  of  the  future, 
for  he  is  afraid  to  meet  God,  except  as  a  Christian  ; 
and  nothing  gives  him  any  peace  of  mind  except 
as  he  can  think  it  at  least  probable,  that  sooner  or 
later  he  will  be  a  Christian  ;  and  if  all  this  is  true 
of  a  man,  he  is  in  his  present  position  not  because 
his  conscience  is  against  the  gospel,  but  because  it 
is  perverted  or  seared.  It  may  be  stupid  sometimes, 
and  not  speak,  but  its  voice,  whenever  heard,  is 
clearly,  decidedly,  uniformly  in  favour  of  practical 
spiritual  religion.  This  then,  is  my  threefold  ar 
gument  to-day.  In  urging  you  to  embrace  the 


REASONS    FOB    EMBRACING    THE    GOSPEL.  l 

gospel,  we  are  but  urging  you  to  receive  that  which 
you  believe  to  be  true,  to  submit  to  that  which  you 
apprehend  to  be  reasonable,  and  to  do  that  which 
you  know  to  be  right.  If  there  was  a  doubt  upon 
any  of  these  points  ;  if  you  felt  that  there  was  room 
to  question  the  truth  of  gospel  principles,  if  its 
claims  seemed  inconsistent  to  you,  or  you  had  any 
reason  to  fear  that  you  might  go  wrong  in  becom 
ing  a  Christian,  we  should  say  to  you,  pause ;  do 
not  commit  yourself  to  any  course  of  questionable 
propriety ;  but  if  you  are  satisfied  of  the  truth  of 
the  gospel,  if  your  mind  approves  of  it,  and  con 
science  accords  with  its  claims,  why  not  embrace 
it  ?  Take  my  appeal,  I  pray  you,  as  it  is  thus  set 
before  you,  and  dispose  of  it  in  a  manner  which 
wrill  meet  the  approval  of  your  understanding  and 
your  conscience. 

4.  I  have  another  point  to  urge.  It  is  this  :  You 
feel  that  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the  very 
thing  you  need ;  that  is,  as  you  look  at  it  carefully, 
study  it  in  its  different  aspects,  and  examine  closely 
its  provisions,  it  is  precisely  adapted  to  all  those 
wants  which,  as  unsatisfied,  are  the  causes  of  your 
disquietude  and  pain. 

The  sorrows  of  human  life  are  referable  to  three 
sources :  a  sense  of  sin,  difficulties  and  trials  of  life, 
and  the  prospect  of  the  future.  Dry  up  these 
sources  of  uneasiness,  let  there  be  no  sense  of  re 
sponsibility  for  past  transgression,  let  every  man 
have  that  which  will  comfort  and  support  him 
under  the  varied  ills  to  which  he  is  subject  on 
earth,  let  there  be  no  apprehension  of  the  future  to 


72  REASONS    FOE    EMBRACING    THE    GOSPEL. 

disturb  him,  and  human  life  would  wear  an  en 
tirely  changed  aspect,  and  the  page  of  man's  his 
tory  would  reveal  scarcely  a  single  sorrow. 

1.  Upon  one  point  human  experience  is  uniform. 
Every  man  feels  himself  to  be  a  sinner.  To  this 
statement  there  are  no  exceptions ;  it  is  true  of  the 
savage  and  of  the  civilized  ;  of  all  men  in  all  their 
varieties  of  feeling,  thought,  or  circumstance.  How 
ever  conflicting  may  be  men's  theories  of  religion  ; 
however  widely  separated  they  may  be  from  each 
other  in  the  principles  they  adopt  and  the  paths 
upon  which  they  travel,  whether  they  are  skeptics 
or  believers,  men  of  religion  or  no  religion,  they  are 
one  in  this  feeling,  that  they  are  not  what  they 
ought  to  be.  Whatever  explanation  they  may 
give  of  their  condition  in  this  respect,  however  they 
may  reason  upon  the  subject  of  their  accountability 
to  God,  they  feel  that  they  are  accountable,  and  that 
their  obligations  have  not  been  discharged.  Call 
it  by  what  name  you  please,  it  is  after  all  a  sense 
of  sin  against  God  which  troubles  the  human  spirit 
universally,  and  man  cannot  get  rid  of  it.  He  has 
tried  ere  this  to  reason  God  out  of  existence,  and 
after  he  has  done  his  best  in  the  way  of  argument 
he  has  the  evidence  that  his  effort  is  a  failure,  in  this 
sense  of  sin,  which  remains  to  disturb  and  oppress 
him. 

You  feel,  my  hearer,  that  you  have  sinned 
against  God ;  you  do  not  need  any  of  rny  argu 
ments  to  demonstrate  that  fact  to  you.  You  carry 
the  evidence  of  it  constantly  within  you.  Some 
times  this  sense  of  sin  is  overwhelming,  crushing  to 


SEASONS   FOE    EMBE AGING    THE    GOSPEL.  3 

the  spirit,  and  every  thing  is  dark  to  the  vision, 
every  thing  palls  upon  the  taste ;  and  so  completely 
in  some  cases  does  this  feeling  swallow  up  every 
other  feeling,  that  men  choose  strangling  and  death 
rather  than  life ;  sometimes  it  is  little  more  than  a 
settled  feeling  of  uneasiness,  an  undefined  apprehen 
sion  that  all  is  not  right,  rendering  one  dissatisfied 
with  every  thing  around  him.  Its  subject  may  be  un 
willing  to  own  it  even  to  a  bosom  friend  ;  he  may 
perhaps  be  unwilling  to  acknowledge  it  to  himself, 
but  it  is  there,  and  he  knows  it,  and  it  troubles 
him.  JVoio  its  evidences  are  seen  in  a  pensive  sad 
ness  which  comes  over  his  spirit ;  there  is  no  alarm, 
no  agitation,  no  deep  and  agonizing  remorse,  but  a 
gloominess  of  temper,  as  though  every  thing  was 
wrong  around  him ;  again  it  is  seen  in  an  irritated 
state  of  the  passions,  when  strong  feelings  are  ex 
cited,  and  the  bitterest  enmity  is  developed  against 
the  friend  who  seeks  his  good  and  most  faithfully 
reveals  the  truth.  In  some  form  or  other  this  con 
sciousness  of  having  done  wrong,  coupled  with  a  fear 
more  or  less  distinct  of  God's  displeasure,  belongs  to 
every  man.  It  may  not  always  be  a  present  object 
of  attention,  for  one  may  studiously  avoid  every 
thing  which  is  calculated  to  excite  it,  but  it  is  lika 
a  festering  wound,  which,  carefully  guarded,  may 
not  occasion  any  very  intense  pain,  but  which  is  con 
stantly  liable  to  be  brought  into  contact  with  irri 
tating  causes,  which,  as  they  act  upon  it,  produce 
the  greatest  anguish. 

You  feel  that  you  need  something ;  you  need 
deliverance   from   this   pressure   upon   the   spirit, 


74  REASONS    FOE    EMBRACING   THE    GOSPEL. 

something  which  will  put  your  mind  at  rest ;  and 
when  I  come  to  you,  as  I  do  now,  and  preach  to 
you  the  gospel ;  when  I  tell  you  that  Christ  has 
borne  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree ;  that 
there  is  forgiveness  with  God ;  when  I  speak  to 
you  in  the  strains  of  the  evangelical  prophet,  and 
say,  "  let  the  wicked  man  forsake  his  way  and 
the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him  re 
turn  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon 
him,  and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly  par 
don  ;"  or  when  I  say,  "  there  is  therefore  now  no 
condemnation  to  them  who  are  in  Christ  Jesus," 
you  feel  that  this  is  precisely  what  you  need.  For 
giveness,  that  is  the  charm  which  soothes  to  quiet 
ness  the  disquieted  spirit ;  it  is  like  oil  poured  on 
the  troubled  waters,  producing  an  undisturbed 
calm.  What  a  different  man  would  you  be,  my 
hearer,  were  a  sense  of  forgiveness,  full  and  free,  to 
take  the  place  of  that  sense  of  unforgiven  sin  which 
now  oppresses  you  and  darkens  your  prospect.  What 
a  load  would  be  lifted  off  from  that  now  oft  over 
tasked  spirit,  what  a  new  light  would  be  shed  upon 
every  thing.  God  would  appear  different;  the 
world,  life,  death,  every  thing  would  wear  a  totally- 
different  aspect.  You  need  forgiveness  to  make 
you  a  happy  man;  and  the  gospel,  as  it  says, 
u  Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready,"  addresses 
itself  to  your  very  necessities,  and  urges  you  to  em 
brace  it  by  the  pardon  which  it  offers. 

2.  But  this  is  not  all.  Every  human  being  in 
this  world  feels  his  dependence ;  he  cannot  go 
alone ;  he  must  have  resources  other  than  those 


SEASONS    FOE    EMBRACING   THE    GOSPEL.  Y5 

which  are  hidden  in  his  own  bosom.  Perhaps,  in  a 
scene  of  sunshine  and  of  calm,  man  does  not  feel 
it ;  but  the  ocean  of  human  life  has  its  storms  as 
well  as  calms ;  its  adverse  tempests  as  well  as 
prosperous  breezes.  No  man  has  ever  yet  passed 
through  life ;  no  man  has  yet  advanced  any  dis 
tance  in  the  journey  of  life,  without  encounter 
ing  trials.  We  cannot  escape  them ;  it  is  idle  to 
think  of  it ;  come  they  will,  and  sometimes  with  a 
crushing  force,  and  when  they  come,  man  feels  the 
need  of  something  out  of  himself  upon  which  to 
lean.  Talk  as  you  please  about  the  manly  indepen 
dence  of  the  human  mind,  which  enables  its  subject 
to  rise  superior  to  the  trials  of  life,  and  to  triumph 
over  them ;  it  is  all  a  dream.  In  such  circum 
stances,  man  always  goes  out  of  himself  for  help ; 
one  goes  in  one  direction,  and  another  in  another ; 
sometimes  the  child  of  sorrow  flies  to  the  cares  and 
troubles  of  business,  to  drive  away  distressing 
thoughts  ;  sometimes  he  flies  to  scenes  of  gayety 
and  worldly  pleasure,  where  excited  passion  leads 
on  the  giddy  dance,  to  find  amid  the  refined,  or  it 
may  be  the  boisterous,  in  either  case  the  unsancti- 
fied  revelries  of  earth,  something  to  amuse  the 
spirit,  and  wean  it  from  grief.  That  wretched  vic 
tim  of  the  intoxicating  bowl  was  once  your  man 
of  lofty  independence  ;  of,  perhaps,  great  resources, 
and  strength  of  endurance ;  but  trials  came,  disas 
ters  overtook  him,  and  he  felt  his  strength  giving 
way,  and  he  sought  relief  in  the  cup  of  the  ine 
briate.  Man  must  have  something  upon  which  to 
lean ;  he  can  no  more  go  alone  through  the  trials 


76  REASONS    FOE    EMBRACING    THE   GOSPEL. 

of  life,  than  a  child  who  has  just  learned  to  walk 
can  travel  safely,  unsupported,  amid  the  rocks  and 
the  precipices  of  the  desert ;  and  here,  child  of  sor 
row  and  of  want,  the  gospel  appeals  to  you  again, 
to  this  sense  of  dependence,  as  it  presents  before 
you  Jesus  Christ,  your  sympathizing  Saviour,  able 
to  feel  for  you,  and  to  help  you,  and  says  "  come." 
3.  And  yet  again,  it  approaches  you  as  an  heir 
of  immortality ;  it  meets  your  wants  for  this  life, 
and  it  tells  you  and  assures  you  of  u  the  life  which 
is  to  come ;"  you  know  that  you  are  a  dying 
creature ;  you  dread  the  thought  of  dying,  and  yet 
you  fear  to  live  for  ever ;  annihilation  has  no 
charms  for  the  human  spirit,  except  as  a  protection 
from  an  apprehended  curse;  and  now  I  speak 
what  I  know,  if  you  have  never  embraced  the  gos 
pel,  you  will  not  deny  that  you  are  afraid  of  dying, 
that  you  cannot  reconcile  yourself  to  the  thought 
of  it ;  you  shrink  from  it ;  you  banish  it  from  your 
minds,  because  it  embitters  life ;  and  yet  you  know 
that  it  is  coming,  slowly,  perhaps ;  quickly,  per 
haps  ;  but  surely ;  you  know  that  in  a  very  little 
while,  at  farthest,  that  dread  hour  will  be  here, 
the  hour  when  experience  will  teach  you  what 
death  is  ;  and  you  dread  it,  because  you  are  not  pre 
pared  for  it.  All  is  dark  beyond  it ;  you  must  have 
something  which  you  do  not  now  possess,  before 
you  can  be  prepared  for  death,  or  think  of  it  with 
any  degree  of  composure ;  and  that  something  is 
simply  hope,  a  good  hope,  an  intelligent  hope,  a  well- 
founded  hope,  a  hope  which  will  not  make  ashamed. 
Oh  !  for  this  hope.  How  that  anxious  and  troubled 


REASONS    FOE    EMBRACING    THE    GOSPEL. 

spirit  sighs  whenever  it  thinks  of  death ;  how  it 
looks  around  and  within  for  something  upon  which 
it  may  hang  its  hope  !  What  a  different  world  this 
would  be  to  you,  my  hearer,  if  you  had  such  a  hope 
of  heaven  !  How  you  envy  that  Christian  disciple, 
mean  though  his  outward  circumstances  may  be, 
who  can  say,  "  I  know  that  when  my  earthly 
house  of  this  tabernacle  is  dissolved,  I  have  a  build 
ing  of  God,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eter 
nal  in  the  heavens ;"  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy 
servant  depart  in  peace  according  to  thy  word,  for 
mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation  ;"  you  feel  that 
you  must  have  such  a  hope  before  you  can  die,  and 
now  see  how  you  are  urged  to  embrace  the  gospel 
by  the  appeals  which  it  makes  to  this  very  feeling. 
"  He  that  believeth  hath  everlasting  life  ;  he  that 
believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live ;  and  he  that  liveth,  and  believeth  in  me,  shall 
never  die."  The  gospel  comes  to  you  with  its 
provisions  for  the  future.  You  see  and  feel  that 
this  is  the  very  hope  your  troubled  spirit  needs. 
You  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  a  good  hope,  a  well- 
founded  hope,  a  hope  that  will  not  make  ashamed. 
Child  of  sin  and  sorrow,  subject  all  your  life-time 
to  bondage  through  fear  of  death,  the  gospel  offers 
its  hope  to  you ;  why  not  embrace  it,  and  let  your 
emancipated  spirit  go  free  ? 

This  then,  my  hearer,  is  my  appeal  to  you  to-day 
in  behalf  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  You 
could  not  have  one  more  direct  or  more  powerful ; 
it  is  an  appeal  to  your  faith,  to  your  reason,  to  your 
conscience,  to  your  wants ;  and  as  the  gospel  says 


78  SEASONS    FOE    EMBKACING    THE    GOSPEL. 

"  come,"  its  language  is  echoed  back  by  your  own 
deep  and  sincere  convictions,  by  every  sensibility 
of  your  nature,  by  all  your  wants  and  woes,  by  all 
your  hopes  and  fears ;  and  under  the  pressure  of  this 
appeal,  can  you  give  yourself  a  reason  why  you 
should  not  embrace  the  gospel,  one  which  your 
convictions  will  honour,  which  your  sensibilities  will 
approve,  and  which  your  wants  and  your  fears  will 
justify  ?     Is  there  an  object  worth  possessing,  or  an 
interest  worth  preserving,  or  a  hope,  or  a  joy  worth 
the  cherishing,  which  says  that  you  are  wise,  or 
right  in  rejecting  this  offer  of  the  gospel  which  is 
now  pressed  upon  your  acceptance  ?     If  there  is, 
we  have  done.     If  there  is  a  good  reason  why  you 
should  not  be  a  Christian,  this  mind  shall  cease  to 
arrange  arguments  for  you,  and  cease  to  plead  with 
you ;  but  while  we  know  there  is  none,  we  can  con 
tinue  to  press  this  matter  home  upon  you,  and  say 
"  all  things  are  ready,  come."    Nor  is  it  our  argu 
ment  alone  which  presses  you.     It  is  the  voice  of 
God  which  speaks  to  you  to-day,  and  says,  "  Turn 
ye,  turn  ye,  for  why  will  ye  die  f     It  is  the  Son  of 
God  who  bore  your  infirmities  and  carried  your 
sorrows,  and  put  away  sin  by  the  sacrifice  of  him 
self,  who  addresses  you  to-day,  and  says,  "  Behold, 
I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock ;  if  any  man  hear  my 
voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him  and 
sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me."     It  is  God  the 
Spirit,  who  moves  with  his  gentle  influence  over 
that  breast,  or  who  whispers  with  his  still  small 
voice  into  your  ear,  "  come,"  and  all  those  around 
you  who  have  embraced  the  gospel  say,  "  come," 


EEASONS    FOE    EMBEACIISTG   THE    GOSPEL.  79 

and  all  who  have  gone  before  you  in  the  faith  of 
this  gospel,  and  have  reached  its  rewards,  take  up 
the  message,  and  send  it  back  to  you  with  all  the 
strength  which  experience  can  give  it ;  and  from 
that  bright  world  above,  from  among  those  "  blest 
voices  uttering  joy,"  there  is  one,  it  may  be  of  an  aged 
Christian  father,  whose  grave  you  bedewed  with 
your  tears,  or  of  a  mother,  who  often  spoke  to  you 
of  Jesus  Christ,  or  of  that  child  whom  God  took 
from  you  in  infancy,  and  whose  smile  is  yet  fresh 
in  your  memory,  which,  as  it  stretches  out  its  arms, 
says,  "  come."  Come,  ere  these  voices  all  are  hushed, 
and  the  darkness  of  a  spiritual  night  gathers  thick 
over  your  soul.  While  God.  and  Christ,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  every  voice  in  the  universe  are 
speaking  to  you. 

"  Come,  trembling  sinner,  in  whose  breast 

A  thousand  thoughts  revolve, 
Come  with  your  guilt  and  fear  oppressed, 
And  make  this  last  resolve. 

"  I'll  go  to  Jesus,  though  my  sin 

Hath  like  a  mountain  rose, 
I  know  his  courts,  I'll  enter  in, 
Whatever  may  oppose. 

"  I  can  but  perish  if  I  go, 
I  am  resolved  to  try, 
For  if  I  stay  away,  I  know 
I  shall  forever  die." 


THE  GUILT  OF  UNBELIEF. 


"  He  that  believeth  not  is  condemned  already,  because  he  hath  not 
believed  in  the  name  of  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God." — ST.  JOHN  iii. 
18. 

THE  peculiarity  of  the  text  which.  I  have  just 
placed  before  you,  is  found,  as  every  one  perceives, 
in  the  prominence  which  it  gives  to  unbelief  in 
Christ  as  man's  greatest  guilt,  and  the  only  ground 
of  his  condemnation  under  the  gospel.  It  seems  to 
turn  away  our  attention  from  every  other  position 
he  may  occupy,  and  direct  it  exclusively  to  the  re 
lation  he  sustains  to  the  Saviour,  making  the  ques 
tion  of  his  life  or  death,  his  acceptance  or  condem 
nation  under  the  divine  government,  hinge  entirely 
upon  the  attitude  he  occupies  as  a  believer,  or  an 
unbeliever,  in  "  the  record  which  God  has  given  of 
his  Son." 

I  am  not  mistaken  in  supposing  that  there  is 
something  here,  not  only  aside  from  men's  usual 
trains  of  thought,  but  contrary  to  their  ordinary 
apprehensions.  They  can  perceive  how  human 
character  may  be  determined,  and  human  destiny 
fixed  from  man's  relation  to  the  simple  code  of  the 
ten  commandments,  because  they  can  see  the  right- 


THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF.  81 

eousness,  and  feel  the  binding  force  of  the  moral 
law.  They  can  understand  that  idolatry  is  a  sin, 
that  blasphemy  is  a  sin,  that  the  violation  of  any 
of  the  statutes  which  define  our  social  duties  is  a 
sin,  and  that  a  man  may  be  justly  condemned  for 
every  or  any  one  of  them.  They  may  apprehend, 
moreover,  how  a  man  who  has  sinned  may  be 
saved  through  the  acceptance  of  an  offered  pardon ; 
there  are  sufficient  analogies  in  human  things  to  il 
lustrate  this  point.  But  here  comes  the  gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ ;  and  it  loses  sight,  apparently,  of  all 
other  sins,  however  numerous  they  may  have  been, 
however  great  they  may  have  been,  in  view  of  the 
greater,  the  more  monstrous,  the  overwhelming 
guilt  of  unbelief.  With  regard  to  all  other  sins,  its 
language  is,  "Though  they  be  as  scarlet  they  shall 
be  white  as  snow,  though  they  be  red  as  crim 
son  they  shall  be  as  wool ;"  but  the  sin  of  unbelief 
persisted  in  knows  no  forgiveness,  and  entails  con 
sequences  from  which  there  is  no  redemption.  It 
would  be  perfectly  intelligible  to  say,  that  it  is 
merely  negative  in  its  destructive  influence,  as  shut 
ting  its  subject  out  from  all  interest  in  the  promised 
pardon,  and  leaving  him  precisely  where  he  should 
have  been  had  no  offer  of  forgiveness  ever  been 
made ;  but  vastly  different  from  this  is  the  repre 
sentation  given  upon  the  sacred  page.  Here  unbe 
lief  in  Christ  is  represented  as  a  positive  crime,  a 
crime  with  which,  in  point  of  enormity,  no  other 
form  of  human  sinfulness  can  be  compared ;  a  crime 
which  not  only  fastens  upon  its  subject  the  guilt, 
and  binds  him  over  to  the  penalty  of  all  his  other 
6 


82  THE   GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 

sins ;  but  which  is  itself  the  most  striking  and  full 
est  development  of  enmity  against  God  and  op 
position  to  his  government,  which  can  possibly  be 
presented. 

Sure  I  am  that  men  do  not  feel,  if  indeed  they 
apprehend  this  truth.  To  other  forms  of  criminal 
ity,  conscience  may  be  sensitive,  and  administer 
its  painful  and  forceful  rebukes,  in  view  of  the 
transgression  of  any  precept  of  the  decalogue ; 
but  how  many  of  the  hearers  of  the  truth,  think 
you,  my  brethren,  feel  when  they  go  away  from  an 
offer  of  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ,  which  has 
been  presented  to  them,  and  from  an  appeal  of  the 
gospel,  which  has  been  ministered  to  the  conscience 
and  the  heart,  refusing  the  one  and  resisting  the 
other,  or  careless  and  indifferent  about  either,  that 
they  are  then  and  there  presenting  to  the  eye  of 
God,  and  of  every  being  who  understands  their 
spiritual  relations,  an  exhibition  of  character,  to  be 
exceeded  by  none  in  the  insult  which  it  puts  upon 
the  authority  and  the  contempt  it  pours  upon  the 
love  of  God ;  an  exhibition,  which  concentrates  in 
itself  the  elements  of  all  sin,  and  which  justifies  the 
heaviest  sentence  recorded  in  the  book  of  God 
against  human  transgression.  How  few  believe  it ; 
and  yet  this  truth  is  written  in  lines  of  light  upon 
every  page  of  the  Bible.  Of  this  it  is  the  especial 
province  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  convince  men,  when 
according  to  the  promise  and  in  the  words  of  the 
Saviour,  he  comes  to  "  reprove  the  world  of  sin, 
because  they  believe  not  on  me."  And  this  truth 
every  one  must  understand  and  feel,  before  he  is 


THE   GUILT    OF   UNBELIEF.  83 

brought  into  the  life,  and  light,  and  liberty  of  the 
gospel.  Be  it  mine  then  to-day,  to  put  the  doctrine 
in  such  a  light,  and  to  give  of  it  such  illustrations 
as  shall  commend  it  to  the  mind  and  conscience  of 
every  one  who  hears  me. 

And  here,  possibly,  I  may  in  the  very  beginning 
divest  the  subject  of  not  a  little  of  its  mysterious- 
ness,  by  calling  attention  to  the  new  circumstances 
and  position  in  which  the  gospel  of  Christ  places 
every  one  of  its  subjects.  We  are  here,  my  breth 
ren,  upon  trial  for  an  eternal  world — the  question 
of  life  or  death,  the  blessing  or  the  curse  is  before 
us,  and  it  is  as  yet  with  those  who  are  out  of  Christ 
an  unsettled  question.  It  is  not  however  to  be 
settled  upon  principles  of  law.  The  event  is  not 
now  to  be  determined,  our  destinies  are  not  now  to 
be  fixed  from  our  relation  to  this  precept,  or  that 
precept,  or  all  the  precepts  of  the  decalogue.  For 
in  this  relation,  every  man  has  had  his  trial  and 
reached  the  issue.  In  the  eye  of  the  law  of  God, 
every  man  is  a  sinner,  has  been  pronounced  such, 
and  as  such  has  been  condemned.  He  needs  no 
other  trial  here,  he  can  have  none,  for  already  has 
it  been  settled  and  proclaimed  as  a  universal  truth 
growing  out  of  the  nature  of  his  case,  as  a  sinner, 
that  "  By  deeds  of  law,  no  flesh  living  can  be  justi 
fied  in  the  sight  of  God." 

If  then  there  is  any  hope  for  him,  it  must  be 
under  another  dispensation,  a  dispensation  of  grace, 
a  dispensation  under  which  the  question  of  eternal 
life  or  eternal  death  will  turn,  not  upon  his  own 
personal  righteousness  or  unrighteousness,  but  upon 


84  THE    GUILT    OF   UNBELIEF. 

the  acceptance,  or  rejection  of  the  righteousness  of 
another.  This  is  the  peculiar  feature  of  the  gospel. 
"  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to 
every  one  that  belie veth."  Pardon  is  offered  as  a  free 
gift  through  him  who  has  "  magnified  the  law  and 
made  it  honourable,"  and  every  thing  turns  now 
upon  simple  faith  in  Jesus  Christ ;  upon  an  accord 
ance  with  God's  plan  of  forgiveness ;  a  cordial  ac 
quiescence  in  the  principles  upon  which  that 
forgiveness  is  offered.  Now,  the  language  ad 
dressed  to  us  is,  not  "  He  that  doeth  these  things 
shall  live  by  them,"  and  "  Cursed  is  every  one  who 
continueth  not  in  all  things  written  in  the  book  of 
the  law,  to  do  them,"  but  "  He  that  believeth  shall 
be  saved,"  and  "  He  that  believeth  not  shall  be 
damned." 

I  wish  you,  at  this  point,  to  call  up  to  your 
minds  the  illustration  of  the  last  Sabbath,  which 
referred  faith  and  unbelief  to  their  source  in  the 
feelings  and  affections  of  the  heart.  They  are  some 
thing  more  than  an  intellectual  assent  to,  or  dissent 
from,  a  proposition,  according  as  the  evidence  may 
appear  sufficient,  or  insufficient  to  sustain  it.  The 
faith  of  the  gospel  is  a  cordial  admission  of  all  the 
principles  upon  which  the  atonement  of  Christ  pro 
ceeds,  and  all  the  claims  which  that  atonement  in 
volves  ;  unbelief  is  a  rejection  of  Jesus  Christ,  as 
an  offered  Saviour,  and  an  intelligent  resistance  to 
all  the  principles  which  the  gospel  involves,  and 
all  the  claims  which  the  gospel  enforces.  The  feel 
ing  of  the  heart  towards  Jesus  Christ  which  it 
embodies,  and  to  which  it  gives  expression  is,  "We 


THE    GUILT    OF   UNBELIEF.  85 

will  not  have  this  man  to  reign  over  us."  The 
state  of  mind  which  it  denotes  is  not  that  of  the 
avowed  skeptic,  who  turns  away  from  the  gospel 
because  of  an  alleged  insufficiency  of  evidence  to 
authenticate  it,  as  a  revelation  from  God ;  but  it  is 
a  state  of  mind  which  is  common,  and  which 
respects  the  subject  matter  of  the  gospel,  where  its 
truth  as  a  communication  from  heaven  is  never 
called  in  question.  It  is  a  rejection  of  offered  mercy ; 
a  dissonance  of  spirit  from  the  God  who  made  us ; 
a  direct  resistance  to  his  government ;  an  insult  put 
upon  his  authority;  a  contempt  of  his  wisdom,  a 
despite  done  to  his  love  and  grace.  I  would  that  men 
could  see  themselves  as  God  sees  them  ;  and  there 
would  then  be  no  need  of  my  illustration  this  morn 
ing,  to  convince  them  of  the  deep,  and  dreadful, 
and  dangerous  criminality  of  their  unbelief,  in  re 
maining  unsubmissive  to,  and  estranged  from  Jesus 
Christ. 

In  endeavouring  to  shed  down  light  upon  their 
position,  I  come  to  those  of  you,  my  brethren, 
who  admit  the  divine  origin  of  these  wondrous 
communications ;  "  God  has  spoken  to  us  in 
these  last  days,"  and  through  these  inspired 
pages,  "  by  his  Son."  This,  I  take  for  granted ; 
and  thus  far,  my  hearers  and  their  speaker  stand 
upon  common  ground.  This  word  is  truth.  The 
message  which  we  bring  to  you  comes  from  the  lips 
of  the  Infinite  and  Eternal  God.  He  speaks  to  you 
from  his  high  and  holy  throne  ;  and  this  is  his 
commandment,  "  That  ye  believe  on  him  whom 
he  hath  sent."  Were  we  reasoning  with  skeptics 


86  THE    GUILT    OF   UNBELIEF. 

to-day,  we  should  be  obliged  to  go  one  step  farther 
back  in  our  argument,  and  array  before  you  those 
varied  testimonies  which  combine  to  authenticate 
this  sacred  volume  as  a  revelation  from  God  ;  but 
we  need  not  do  it,  for  we  are  not  battling  with 
speculative  skepticism,  but  with  a  practical  disre 
gard  of  God's  acknowledged  commandments.  Un 
believer  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  knowing  your 
Master's  will,  yet  doing  it  not,  we  are  constructing 
a  mirror  in  which  you  may  see  reflected  the  linea 
ments  of  your  moral  image.  Turn  not  away  from 
the  mirrored  likeness  true  to  the  life,  however 
painful  and  humiliating  the  spectacle  may  be,  but 
study  and  ponder  it  well,  if  perchance  the  proud 
heart  may  be  humbled  and  the  rebellious  spirit 
bow  and  yield  before  Almighty  God.  It  is  not  a 
trifling  circumstance  that  which  defines  your  cha 
racter  and  fixes  your  position ;  that  you  are  unin 
terested  in  the  blessings  of  the  gospel.  It  is  not  a 
step  which  reflects  only  upon  yourself  as  it  demon 
strates  your  folly  when  you  turn  away  from  him 
who  offers  you  eternal  life  upon  condition  of  your 
faith,  but  a  step  which  demonstrates  your  guilt  as 
it  reflects  upon  God,  by  whose  authority  this  offer 
is  pressed  upon  your  acceptance.  He  who  has  a 
right  to  control  man ;  he,  in  whose  hands  his  breath 
is,  requires  that  he  should  believe  on  him  whom  he 
hath  sent,  and  the  creature  of  a  day  turns  his  back 
upon  the  God  who  made  him,  and  says,  "  Who  is 
the  Lord  that  I  should  obey  his  voice  ?"  Nothing 
short  of  this,  nothing  less  criminal  than  this,  no 
thing  less  fraught  with  peril  to  the  immortal  spirit, 


THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF.  87 

is  unbelief  in  Jesus   Christ.     It  is  contempt  put 
upon  the  authority  of  God,  and  a  rejection  of  his 
claims,  kindly  yet  firmly  asserted,' — "  I  have  set 
my  king  upon  my  holy  hill  of  Zion."      "  Kiss  ye 
the  Son,"  is  the  message  which  has  gone  forth  from 
the  throne,  and  has  fallen  upon  our  ears.     The  un 
believer  knows  the  voice,  understands  the  message, 
then  looks  upon   God's  Anointed  One,  and  says  to 
the  world,  and  to  every  looker  on  in  the  universe, 
"  Let  others  do  as  they  may,  I  will  not  have  this 
man  to  reign  over  me."    His  pride  of  reason  rejects 
the  statements  which  place  the  movements  of  the 
Infinite  God  beyond  his  comprehension ;  his  pride 
of  heart  nauseates  the  doctrines  of  the  cross,  because 
they  are  so  humiliating;  and  his  independence  of 
spirit  turns  away  from  its  salvation,  because  it  is 
so  perfectly  gratuitous.     Thus  unbelief  is  human 
littleness    cavilling    at    the    Unsearchable    One ; 
human  pride  denying  the  statements  of  him  who 
cannot  lie ;    and  human  independence   refusing   a 
gratuity  from  the  Creator,  from  whom  day  by  day 
man  receives  the  very  breath  in  his  nostrils,  and 
the  very  powers  which  he  arrays  in  hostility  against 
the  throne. 

It  goes  not  a  little  way  to  aggravate  the  guilt  of 
the  unbeliever,  that  God  has  been  pleased  in  his 
gospel  not  only  to  state  the  plan  through  which  he 
forgives  sin,  but  to  show  also  the  indispensable  ne 
cessity  of  that  plan  as  growing  out  of  his  justice  as 
God,  and  his  uprightness  as  a  moral  governor.  He 
tells  us,  in  language  too  plain  to  be  misunderstood, 
that  he  can  save  us  in  no  other  way  than  through 


88  THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF. 

faith  in  his  Son.  In  no  other  way  could  he  make 
glory  to  God  in  the  highest  harmonize  with  peace  on 
earth  and  good  will  to  men.  The  sacrifice  of  Jesus 
Christ  was  a  method  of  infinite  wisdom  to  pay  a  tri 
bute  to  justice,  while  it  threw  the  mantle  of  mercy 
over  the  lost.  Christ  is  the  great  propitiation  to  de 
clare  God's  righteousness  in  the  forgiveness  of  sin. 
God  can  save  in  no  other  way,  because  in  no  other 
way  would  it  be  just  to  save  ;  but  the  unbeliever  re 
jects  the  offers  of  mercy  coming  through  Jesus  Christ, 
and  challenges  the  approbation  of  God  upon  some 
other  ground,  than  the  propitiation  of  his  Son. 
He  thus  stands  out  against  his  Maker  upon  a 
point,  in  reference  to  which  God's  character  is  com 
mitted  against  him.  He  thus  enters  into  a  contro 
versy  with  all  the  plans  of  heavenly  wisdom,  and 
all  the  claims  of  heavenly  righteousness;  throws 
an  insult  upon  the  justice  of  his  Maker,  as  he  had 
already  poured  contempt  upon  his  authority,  and 
assumes  the  fearful  position  of  one  who  demands 
the  favour  of  God,  upon  grounds  upon  which  he 
knows  God's  justice  will  never  let  him  grant  it, 
and  declines  it  peremptorily  and  entirely  upon 
the  only  ground  upon  which  it  can  be  made 
to  harmonize  with  the  holy  and  inviolable  glories 
of  the  Godhead.  To  be  a  sinner  against  God 
is  dreadful — it  is  to  resist  his  authority  and  put 
one's  self  in  a  position  where  all  the  high  and 
unutterable  sanctions  of  the  eternal  throne  are  ar 
rayed  against  him ;  but  to  be  an  unbelieving  sin 
ner  in  the  circumstances  in  which  we,  my  brethren, 
are  placed,  and  in  view  of  the  reasonings  which  God 


THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF.  89 

addresses  to  our  understanding,  and  which  we  can 
fully  comprehend,  is  more  dreadful  still,  for  it  is 
supposing  that  God  may  look  kindly  on  that  which 
his  soul  abhors,  and  pass  by  with  impunity  that 
against  which  he  has  pledged  all  the  attributes  of 
his  nature  and  all  the  truth  and  righteousness  and 
power  of  his  throne.  Unbeliever  in  Jesus  Christ ! 
—mark,  study,  and  inwardly  digest  this  painful, 
this  appalling  truth.  God  offers  to  save  you 
through  his  Son — he  tells  you  he  can  save  you  in 
no  other  way.  You  perceive  that  it  is  so  ;  you  un 
derstand  how  his  righteousness  stands  in  the  way 
of  any  other  mode  of  forgiveness  ;  you  turn  away 
from  his  offer,  and  challenge  forgiveness  upon  some 
other  ground,  as  though  you  would  bid  the 
Almighty  to  sacrifice  his  righteousness  to  your 
pride,  and  put  all  that  is  dear  to  him  in  the  holi 
ness  of  his  nature  and  the  interests  of  his  kingdom 
upon  the  altar  of  your  peace. 

I  must  add  to  this  exhibition,  that  the  gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ,  which  unbelief  rejects,  is  the  highest 
expression  which  God  could  give  us  of  his  grace. 
The  burden  of  his  message  to  you,  and  to  me,  is, 
"  God  is  love."  The  plan  of  redemption  through 
Jesus  Christ,  had  its  origin  in  compassions  as  won 
derful  and  incomprehensible  as  is  the  unsearchable 
nature  of  God.  To  angels,  gifted  with  powers  far 
larger  and  stronger  than  our  own,  it  is  a  mystery 
whose  depths  they  have  never  yet  been  able  to 
fathom.  Inspired  men,  who  spake  as  they  were 
moved  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  enlarging  their  concep 
tions,  and  inditing  their  utterances,  never  yet  at- 


90  THE    GUILT    OX    UNBELIEF. 

tempted  to  describe  the  height,  and  depth,  and 
length,  and  breadth  of  redeeming  love.  They  bid 
us  to  take  our  measures  of  its  greatness  from  the 
modes  of  its  expression  which  God  has  adopted. 
Cast  your  eye  over  the  inspired  record,  and  what 
do  you  see,  upon  its  every  page,  but  "  God  mani 
fest  in  the  flesh,"  "  full  of  grace  and  truth."  Look 
upon  the  countenance  of  him  who  is  to  us  the  rev 
elation  of  the  infinite  One,  and  you  trace  tender 
ness  in  every  line,  and  see  compassion  in  every 
aspect.  How  much  God  loves  us,  an  angel  tongue 
could  never  tell,  because  an  angel's  mind  could 
never  estimate  the  value  of  the  sacrifice  to  which 
that  love  has  led.  The  cross  upon  which  hangs  an 
expiring  Redeemer,  and  where  he  breathes  away 
his  life,  is  to  us,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  the  ex 
pression  of  the  greatness  of  that  sin  of  ours  which 
brought  about  so  dire  a  catastrophe,  and  of  the  love 
of  God,  which  could  consent  to  its  occurrence  in 
order  to  our  deliverance  from  a  penalty  which 
could  not  otherwise  have  been  avoided.  "  Herein 
is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  God  loved 
us,  and  gave  his  Son  to  be  a  propitiation  of  our 
sins." 

There  is  a  tasteful  sentimentalisin,  my  brethren, 
which  descants,  with  wonderful  fluency,  upon  the 
goodness  of  God,  as  seen  in  the  works  of  his  hand, 
and  the  dealings  of  his  Providence.  There  is  an 
admitted,  felt  obligation  to  gratitude  at  least,  in 
view  of  the  evidences  of  kindness  seen  in  the  adap 
tation  of  all  God's  arrangements  to  the  good  of  his 
creatures.  The  unwearied  Providence  which 


GUILT    OF    tTFTBULIEF. 


sleeplessly  watches  over  liuman  interests,  and  inter 
feres  at  particular  crises,  to  warn  and  protect 
against  danger,  throwing  its  shield  over  the  de 
fenceless,  and  the  arm  of  its  strength  around  the 
feeble,  demands  at  least  the  thankfulness  of  the 
human  spirit.  He  who  never  regards  the  works  of 
the  Lord,  nor  the  operations  of  his  hand,  the  re 
sponses  of  whose  heart  to  the  evidences  of  kind 
ness  which  they  present,  are  kept  back  by  the 
pride  of  a  selfish  or  haughty  spirit,  is  a  being  upon 
whom  nature  frowns  as  a  deformity  upon  her  works, 
and  from  whom  humanity  shrinks,  as  an  outcast  she 
will  scarcely  own. 

Unbeliever  in  Jesus  Christ  !  go  ransack  the  uni 
verse  and  find  among  all  the  works  of  God  any 
thing  at  all  comparable  with  God's  gift  of  his  Son 
to  you.  What  day  that  passes  over  you,  rehears 
ing,  as  it  goes,  the  goodness  of  your  Maker,  can  tell 
a  tale  like  that  of  the  crucifixion,  or  present  a  spec 
tacle  so  expressive  of  love,  and  which  appeals  so 
strongly  to  the  heart  ?  If  the  claims  to  gratitude 
and  aifection  rise  in  number  and  strength  accord 
ing  to  the  greatness  of  the  benevolence  which  origi 
nates  them,  there  are  then  no  claims  like  those  of 
a  redeeming  Saviour,  and  no  ingratitude  like  that 
which  lightly  esteems  them.  Compass,  if  you  can, 
the  mighty  dimensions  of  the  theme  upon  which 
now  we  speak  —  the  measure  thereof  is  longer  than 
the  earth  and  broader  than  the  sea  ;  it  is  the  mea 
sure  at  once  of  the  love  of  God  and  the  guilt  of 
unbelief.  The  scene  of  the  cross  is  not  an  unreal 
thing  to  you.  "We  have  not  to  demonstrate  the 


92  THE    GUILT    OF 

fact,  that  "  God  so  loved  the  world  as  to  give 
his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth 
upon  him  might  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life."  The  testimonials  which  authenticate  the 
fact  are  before  you  ;  you  have  admitted  their  suffi 
ciency  ;  you  wonder  how  any  one  can  suspect  them ; 
and  yet,  when  God  appeals  to  you,  by  such  a 
mighty  demonstration,  you  can  turn  away  with  a 
listless  heart  as  though  there  were  nothing  in  such 
wondrous  love  to  demand  a  response  from  the 
spirit  before  which  it  lays  its  claims.  My  unbeliev 
ing  brother,  it  is  a  God  of  truth  whose  words  you 
doubt ;  a  God  of  love,  whose  offers  you  slight.  Un 
belief  in  Jesus  Christ,  disguise  it  as  men  may — it  is 
the  darkest  form  which  human  depravity  can  as 
sume — it  is  an  impeachment  of  the  truth  of  God ; 
for  he  who  believeth  not  the  testimony  he  has 
given  of  his  Son,  has  made  him  a  liar.  It  is  a  con 
tempt  put  upon  his  authority,  whose  voice  was 
heard  from  the  excellent  glory,  "  this  is  my  beloved 
Son,  hear  ye  him."  It  is  an  insult  to  the  character  of 
God,  who  declares  that  he  can  be  just  only  as  he 
pardons  the  believer — it  is  despite  done  to  his  love, 
since  he  "  has  given  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation 
for  our  sins."  There  is  nothing  in  God,  nothing 
in  his  truth;  nothing  in  his  wisdom;  nothing 
in  his  holiness ;  nothing  in  his  justice  ;  nothing  in 
his  mercy,  which  unbelief  does  not  array  against  its 
subject,  because  it  puts  him  in  a  position  of  direct 
resistance  to  his  Maker,  and  leads  him  in  a  course, 
in  the  pursuit  of  which  he  must  fly  in  the  face  of 
every  attribute  of  the  eternal  God. 


THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF.  93 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  unbelief  in  its  own  intrin 
sic  nature,  altogether  independent  of  the  circum 
stances  in  which  it  is  manifested,  and  irrespective 
of  the  influences  which  are  used  to  overcome  it. 
Do  you  wonder  at  the  language  of  my  text  ?  "  He 
that  believeth  not  is  condemned  already,  because 
he  hath  not  believed  upon  the  name  of  the  only 
begotten  Son  of  God."  If  there  is  not  guilt  here, 
where  is  there  guilt  ?  If  this  is  not  a  righteous 
ground  of  condemnation,  what  can  be  ?  If  you  can 
not  understand  the  justice  of  the  principle,  point 
me,  if  you  please,  to  anything  which  God  ought  to 
punish,  or  any  circumstances  in  which  man  is  with 
out  excuse.  Shew  me  anything  that  man  can  do, 
which,  in  respect  to  the  affront  it  puts  upon  God, 
and  the  rebelliousness  of  spirit  against  his  autho 
rity,  his  truth,  and  his  grace,  can  for  a  mo 
ment  compare  with  unbelief  in  or  a  rejection 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  I  yield  at  once  the  point, 
and  cease  to  vindicate  the  judgment  of  God. 

It  is,  however,  an  acknowledged  principle,  and 
one  which  we  cannot  overlook  in  illustration  of  the 
present  subject,  that  a  man's  character,  so  far  as  the 
degree  of  its  excellence  or  demerit  is  concerned, 
must  be  determined  in  a  great  measure  by  the  cir 
cumstances  in  which  he  is  placed,  and  the  influences 
which  are  brought  to  act  upon  him.  The  restraints 
which  are  thrown  over  transgression,  and  the  mo 
tives  to  uprightness  of  life,  enter  largely  into  that 
standard  of  judgment  by  which  we  measure  the 
character  of  him  with  whom,  they  are  ineffectual ;  the 
guilt  of  the  same  action  as  performed  by  different 


94  THE   GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 

persons,  though  attended  by  precisely  the  same 
results,  varies  with  the  ignorance  or  knowledge  of 
its  authors,  and  with  the  peculiar  influences  which 
acted  upon  them,  as  they  tended  to  further  or  pre 
vent  the  perpetration  of  the  crime  in  question.  Ac 
cording  to  this  very  obvious  and  obviously  just 
standard  of  judgment,  unbelief  in  the  Son  of  God, 
or  a  rejection  of  the  claims  of  the  gospel,  stands  by 
itself,  perfectly  isolated  in  the  features  of  enormity 
which  mark  it,  as  least  allowing  of  an  apology,  or 
admitting  of  defence.  It  is  not  a  sin  of  ignorance, 
for  every  man  under  the  light  of  truth  knows  it  to 
be  wrong.  Conscience  does  not  slumber  over  the 
slighted  claims  of  infinite  mercy  and  eternal  truth. 
The  sinner  who  throws  off  from  him  the  obligations 
of  an  atoning  Saviour,  does  not  carry  within  him  a 
mind  at  ease  in  view  of  those  manifestations  of 
grace  which  a  Redeemer  has  made  to  him,  and 
those  appeals  of  the  cross  which  have  been  minis 
tered  to  his  heart.  The  convictions  of  his  own 
spirit,  clear,  numerous,  and  irrepressible,  often  tes 
tify  against  him,  as  one  who  sins  against  light  and 
knowledge.  The  thousand  extenuating  pleas  which 
he  conjures  up  to  satisfy  his  wakeful  conscience,  are 
so  many  witnesses  of  his  guilt,  witnesses  whose  tes 
timony  he  cannot  set  aside,  because  he  has  sum 
moned  them  himself ;  they  are  evidences  clear  and 
palpable  of  guilt,  great  indeed,  which  demands  so 
many  and  such  mighty  efforts  to  hide  it  from  the 
view,  or  sustain  the  burden  it  imposes. 

I  can  see,  my  brethren,  how  a  man  who  disbe 
lieves  the  existence  of  God,  can  put  forth  an  argu- 


THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF.  95 

inent  wearing  the  semblance,  at  least,  of  reason,  in 
defence  of  his  strange  and  anomalous  position ;  for 
we  cannot  say,  that  there  might  not  be  clearer  and 
stronger  evidences  of  a  first  great  cause,  than  those 
which  are  engraven  upon  the  creation  which  we 
behold  around  us.  True,  we  can  say,  that  these 
evidences  are  sufficient  to  secure  a  rational  faith ; 
we  can  say,  and  say  with  truth,  that  the  man,  who 
in  view  of  every  thing  he  beholds,  can  maintain  his 
disbelief  in  the  divine  existence,  could  not  be 
brought  to  its  acknowledgment  by  any  additional 
accumulation  of  evidence.  But  then,  we  cannot 
say,  that  there  might  not  be  other  and  stronger 
testimonies  to  the  being  of  a  God  than  those  which 
we  have  in  our  possession ;  we  can  conceive  of 
others,  we  could,  perhaps,  if  it  were  necessary,  men 
tion  others.  But,  as  it  is,  we  cannot  come  down 
upon  the  atheist,  and  say  to  him  that  there  can  be 
no  other  nor  stronger  proofs  of  the  divine  existence 
than  those  which  God  has  furnished,  and  thus  de 
monstrate  his  folly  and  his  guilt  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  he  remains  unconvinced,  notwithstanding  that 
God  has  done  the  utmost  to  satisfy  his  mind.  No, 
he  might  answer,  and  you  could  not  meet  him  here, 
that  God  might  do  much  more;  he  might  have 
other  and  more  striking  evidences.  I  grant  you 
his  argument  is  pitiful,  it  is  evasive  ;  but  such  as 
it  is,  it  is  better  than  the  practical  unbeliever  in 
Jesus  Christ  can  urge  in  excuse  for  his  rejection  of 
offered  mercy.  If  a  man  admits  this  Bible  to  be  a 
record  of  truth  ;  if  so  far  from  cavilling  at  its  com 
munications,  he  admits  that  this  is  a  veritable  record 


96  THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF. 

of  facts ;  then,  lie  admits  that  God  has  done  as  much 
as  he  can  do  to  commend  himself  to  his  affections. 
When  you  study  the  handiwork  of  God  there  is 
room,  for  the  play  of  fancy ;  we  can  conceive  of  a 
more  glorious  creation  than  this  which  our  eyes 
behold ;  or,  we  can  conceive  how  there  might  be 
such  an  influence  exerted  upon  our  faculties,  that 
every  thing  should,  in  our  vision,  teem  with  more 
wonderful  testimonies  in  behalf  of  God.  But  it  is  not 
so  with  the  work  of  redeeming  love  which  has  been 
set  before  us  upon  these  sacred  pages  ;  you  cannot 
conceive  of  a  more  wonderful,  a  brighter,  a  grander 
display  of  God,  than  that  which  is  made  upon  the 
cross ;  there  cannot  be  a  more  striking  proof  of  the 
love  of  the  Almighty,  or  more  stirring  motives  to 
repentance  and  obedience.  God,  in  the  gift  of  his 
Son,  has  not  fallen  short  of,  but  gone  beyond  the 
power  of  all  human  imagination.  Angels  themselves 
bow  down  before  the  mystery  of  redeeming  love, 
unable  to  compass  its  mighty  dimensions,  to  tell  its 
height h  and  depth,  its  length,  and  breadth.  Un 
believer  in  the  Son  of  God,  is  it  so  ? — that  in  com 
mending  himself  to  your  heart  your  Maker  has 
done  his  utmost ;  is  it  so,  that  the  divine  nature  in 
all  its  attributes  of  wisdom  and  justice,  and  power 
and  love,  seems  to  have  exhausted  itself  in  the 
mode  of  your  deliverance;  that  God  could  not 
have  shewn  himself  more  mighty,  to  overwhelm,  to 
deter  you  from  disobedience,  more  compassionate 
and  able  to  save,  to  allure  you  to  himself  than  he 
has  done  in  the  cross  of  his  beloved  Son.  Come 
then  to  that  cross,  and  ponder  it  well ;  study  it  in 


THE   GUILT    OF   UNBELIEF.  97 

its  amazing  dimensions,  in  its  mysteries  of  wisdom, 
and  power,  and  justice,  and  truth,  and  love ;  let 
these  be  to  you  the  measures  of  your  guilt  in  re 
jecting  the  offered  atonement,  and  cease,  oh,  cease, 
forever,  to  wonder  at  the  words  of  Christ,  "  He 
that  believeth  not  is  condemned  already,  because 
he  hath  not  believed  in  the  name  of  the  only  be 
gotten  Son  of  God." 

In  order  to  complete  our  illustration,  you  must 
add  to  what  God  has  done  without  us  in  the  way 
of  commending  himself  to  our  affections ;  what  God 
has  been  and  is  doing  within  us  to  call  our  atten 
tion  to,  and  secure  our  acceptance  of  his  proffered 
mercy. 

If  it  is  a  remarkable  feature  in  the  great  plan  of 
human  redemption,  that  he  who  "  was  in  the  be 
ginning  with  God,"  should  come  down  and  taber 
nacle  among  men,  and  go  through  his  experience 
of  humiliation,  and  sorrow,  and  death,  in  order  to 
execute  God's  designs  of  mercy,  it  is,  I  apprehend, 
a  feature  quite  as  remarkable,  that  after  the  plan 
has  been  executed,  God  himself  should  come  down 
in  a  manner  inexplicable  and  mysterious  indeed, 
yet  really,  and  busy  himself  with  these  hearts 
of  ours  to  commend  that  plan  to  our  affections. 
For  one,  I  shall  not  undertake  to  compare  in  point 
of  wonderfulness  the  different  parts  of  this  great 
scheme  of  redeeming  love.  In  fact,  it  is  perfectly 
wonderful  throughout ;  from  its  conception  in  the 
divine  mind  down  through  the  mode,  and  every 
step  of  its  execution  and  application,  to  its  final  re 
sult,  when  the  crown  is  put  upon  the  head  of  the 


98  THE   GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 

redeemed  sinner.  Throughout,  God  acts  like  him 
self,  "  wonderful  in  counsel  and  mighty  in  work 
ing."  But  now  I  fix  your  thoughts  upon  the 
fact,  that  he  who  is  busy  every  where  through 
his  universe,  upholding  and  directing  and  con 
trolling  all  things,  regulating  the  movements  of 
unnumbered  systems,  sustaining  alike  the  life  of 
an  insect  and  an  archangel,  should  be  no  less 
really  and  constantly  engaged  with  men,  throwing 
over  their  spirits  the  influence  of  the  cross,  bring 
ing  out  of  its  treasury  of  motives  the  dissuasives 
from  sin,  and  the  inducements  to  faith  in  Christ 
Jesus.  The  peculiarity  of  our  position,  my  breth 
ren,  which  gives  so  much  interest  to  our  circum 
stances,  adding  to  our  hopefulness,  wrhile  at  the 
same  time  it  increases  our  peril  is,  that  the  truths 
of  the  gospel  to  which  our  attention  and  faith  are 
demanded,  are  ministered  to  the  conscience  and 
the  heart  by  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  We 
live  under  "  the  ministration  of  the  Spirit,"  and 
though  his  agency,  like  that  of  the  mind,  is  not 
palpable  to  the  senses,  yet  every  man  carries  about 
with  him  the  evidences  of  its  power  and  reality, 
in  the  effects  it  produces  within  him.  We  should 
like  to  find  among  the  hearers  of  a  preached  gospel 
the  wonderful  anomaly  of  a  human  being,  whose 
experience  does  not  demonstrate  the  fulfillment  of 
a  Saviour's  promise,  when  he  said  to  his  disciples 
that  he  would  send  the  Holy  Spirit  to  convince 
the  world  of  sin.  We  know  that  this  blessed  agent 
has  been  and  is  now  abroad  in  our  world.  We 
know  that  he  has  left  his  testimony  in  behalf  of 


THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF.  9  9 

God  and  his  gospel,  in  the  mind  of  each  one  of  our 
hearers.  We  are  not  afraid,  upon  this  point,  to 
summon  the  experience  of  all  before  us.  The  youth 
who  gives  up  his  reins  to  his  passions,  and  lives  for 
the  pleasurable  excitement  of  the  world,  has  he  not, 
— bear  me  witness,  my  youthful  hearer, — oftentimes 
his  painful  misgivings,  when  he  passes  by  the  Ke- 
deemer's  cross,  and  hears  its  solemn  and  affecting 
warning  ?  The  man  of  middle  life,  who  is  grasping 
after  the  good  things  of  this  world,  feels,' — I  appeal 
to  you,  my  brethren,  who  are  engaged  in  the  plans 
and  activities,  and  business  of  life, — that  he  is  after 
all  but  a  spiritual  bankrupt,  destitute  of  an  interest 
in  Christ,  and  without  any  rational  or  well-founded 
hope  in  God's  pardoning  mercy ;  and  the  man  who 
has  placed  himself  in  a  condition  of  spiritual 
insensibility,  where  he  is  neither  alarmed  by  the 
terrors,  nor  Avon  by  the  mercies  of  the  cross,  will 
testify — I  appeal  to  you,  my  brethren,  to  whom  I 
have  so  long  and  so  fruitlessly  ministered  the 
motives  of  eternal  truth — will  testify,  if  he  will  al 
low  himself  to  speak  out  his  distinct  remembrances, 
that  he  has  fought  his  way  to  his  present  position 
against  powerfully  opposing  influences,  and  has 
been  compelled,  at  times,  in  order  to  hold  on  his 
course,  to  crush  with  a  desperate  effort,  pleadings  of 
almost  irresistible  energy.  I  charge  upon  a  rejec 
tion  of  the  gospel,  not  only  a  contempt  cast  upon 
every  attribute  of  the  divine  name — not  only  an 
insensibility  to  the  mightiest  demonstration  which 
God  could  make  of  his  love,  but  a  resistance  to  the 
strivings  and  suggestions  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Un- 


100  THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF. 

believer  in  the  Son  of  God  !  I  summon  you  to-day, 
to  testify  against  yourself,  before  your  Saviour's 
cross.  I  would  bring  your  experiences  to  the  light 
of  day,  and  wring  out  from  them  a  reluctant  but 
convincing  evidence  of  your  guilt,  as  you  have  been 
obliged,  in  order  to  put  away  from  you  the  offers 
of  a  Kedeemer's  mercy ;  to  cast  a  slight  upon  the 
truth  of  the  ever  living  God,  to  question  as  well 
his  justice  as  his  love,  in  view  of  their  highest 
possible  demonstrations,  and  to  do  violence  to  some 
secret  influence  within  you,  and  even  to  some  of 
the  noblest  attributes  of  your  own  nature,  as  you 
have  turned  away  from  him  who  pleaded  with  you 
from  his  cross,  and  invited  you  in  strains  of  love  to 
peace  and  hope. 

And  yet,  in  the  minds  of  many,  unbelief  is  no 
thing  ;  nothing  but  a  want  of  faith ;  nothing  but 
a  want  of  love ;  nothing  but  the  absence  of  obedi 
ence.  Let  the  man  who  doubts  or  contradicts  your 
word,  truly  and  solemnly  given,  wonder  that  you 
should  resent  such  a  negative  thing  as  a  want  of 
faith ;  let  the  being  who  ruthlessly  tramples  upon 
a  benefactor,  who  has  saved  his  life  at  the  risk  of 
his  own,  talk  only  of  his  want  of  gratitude ;  let  the 
man  who  utterly  disallows  your  admitted,  righteous, 
and  unalienable  claims,  talk  of  his  want  of  obedi 
ence  ;  but  let  not  the  unbeliever  in  Jesus  Christ 
talk  thus ;  rather  let  him  look  at  the  means  and 
inducements  to  faith,  and  as  he  sees  how  the 
gospel  brings  before  him  the  glory  and  beauty  of 
"Immanuel,"  "God  with  us,"  let  him  learn  that 
unbelief  is  human  nature  shutting  closely  her  eyes 


THE    GUILT    OF   UNBELIEF.  10 1 

lest  she  should  perceive  and  love ;  as  the  voice 
from  heaven  speaks  to  the  ruined  sinner,  with  all 
the  earnestness  of  truth,  and  all  the  tenderness  of 
pity,  let  him  learn  that  unbelief  is  human  nature 
making  her  ears  heavy  lest  she  should  hear  and  be 
saved.  Man,  ruined,  wretched,  complaining,  dying 
man,  is  haughty  and  unbending,  still  clinging  to 
his  own  miseries,  aggravating  his  own  sufferings, 
provoking  the  doom  which  he  sincerely  dreads,  and 
refusing  to  "  Come  to  Christ,  that  he  might  have 
life."  Heaven  urges  by  all  its  joys,  and  hell  by  all 
its  terrors ;  the  cross  of  Christ  pleads  by  all  its 
wonders  of  justice  and  of  grace,  and  unbelief  replies 
to  every  commandment,  "  We  will  not  have  this 
man  to  reign  over  us ;"  and  to  every  gracious  over 
ture,  "  Depart  from  us,  for  we  desire  not  the  know 
ledge  of  thy  ways." 

I  question  whether  there  is  in  any  part  of  the 
universe  of  God,  another  being  like  the  unbeliever 
in  Jesus  Christ.  If  there  is  not  among  the  unre 
deemed  in  heaven,  one  who  can  compare  with  him 
who  lives  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God  on  earth, 
one  who  so  much  honours  God,  and  who  shall 
stand  so  high  at  the  last ;  where  among  the  ranks 
of  those  who  kept  not  their  first  estate,  will  you 
find  one  who  carries  upon  his  conscience  such  a  load 
of  guilt  to  press  him  down  for  ever,  as  that  which 
weighs  upon,  and  will  for  ever  crush  the  spirit  of 
him  who  rejects  the  great  salvation  ?  Say  what  you 
please  of  those  who  first  made  war  upon  the  throne 
and  monarchy  of  God,  and  who  sank  into  the 
darkness  of  everlasting  midnight  ;  you  must  say 


102  THE    GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF. 

more  of  him  who  rejects  as  his  ground  of  hope  the 
blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant.  Over  those  lost 
spirits  God  never  spread  the  bow  of  hope.  For 
them  no  Saviour  died.  Into  their  dark  habitation 
no  messenger  of  mercy  ever  found  his  way,  coming 
from  the  cross  of  Christ,  to  bid  them  live.  Upon 
their  minds  and  hearts  the  spirit  of  grace  and  truth 
never  moved,  to  wake  them  to  life  and  righteous 
ness.  Upon  their  consciences  rest  not  the  deep 
and  damning  guilt  of  unbelief  in  an  offered 
Saviour.  But,  my  beloved  hearers,  my  dying 
fellow  travellers  to  the  retributions  of  an  eternal 
world,  can  all  of  you  say  as  much  ?  Have  we,  has 
any  one  of  us,  the  nerve  to  meet,  the  heart  to  bear 
the  issues  of  unbelief  in  Jesus  Christ  \  Oh  !  ye  for 
whom  a  Saviour  has  died — ye  to  whom  a  Saviour 
has  been  offered — ye  who  have  been  plied  so  oft 
and  so  strongly  by  the  touching,  and  powerful,  and 
impressive  motives  of  the  gospel — ye  subjects  of 
the  Spirit's  influences,  "How"' — ponder  the  ques 
tion,  it  is  one  of  life  or  death  to  the  undying  spirit 
— "How  can  ye  escape,  if  ye  neglect  so  great 
salvation  ?" 


PEACE  IN  BELIEVING, 


"  Now  the  God  of  hope  fill  you  with  all  joy,  and  peace  in  believ 
ing." — Eomans  xv.  13. 

"  PEACE  in  believing,"  is  the  thought  to  which  I 
call  your  attention  this  morning.     It  is  a  very  sim 
ple  thought,  and  yet  one  which  to  the  majority  of 
minds  is   exceedingly  difficult  of   comprehension. 
It  is  so  contrary  to  man's  ordinary  modes  of  think 
ing,  it  so  conflicts  with  his  prejudices,  as  to  the 
sources  of  human  good,  it  withal,  is  in  such  seem 
ing  conflict  with  the  laws  of  our  nature,  as  creatures 
of  sense,  that  I  question  whether  any  thing  but 
actual  experience  can  bring  a  man  to  appreciate  its 
meaning,  or  to  admit  its  truth.     Certain  it  is,  that 
to  a  carnal  mind,  it  presents  the  most  unintelligible 
mystery  with  which  it  is  called  to  grapple.     What 
ever  views  it  may  take  of  the  spiritual  religion  of 
the  New  Testament,  the  element  of  which  is  faith ? 
it  never  regards  it  as  in  itself  a  source  of  positive 
enjoyment.     Its  importance  may  be  admitted,  its 
indispensableness  may  be  felt,  but  so  far  from  being 
regarded  as  desirable,  it  is  looked  upon  as  some 
thing  which  must  be  submitted  to  in  obedience  to 


104  PEACE    IN   BELIEVING. 

the  law  of  stern  necessity,  or  as  the  only  alterna 
tive  to  an  experience  more  intolerable  than  itself. 

It  is  not  at  all  surprising  that  it  should  be  so. 
As  the  scenery  by  which  we  are  surrounded  takes 
its  colouring  from  the  medium  through  which  we 
look  at  it,  so  do  the  objects  which  are  presented  to 
us  wear  a  pleasing  or  displeasing  aspect,  according  to 
their  relation  to,  as  in  harmony,  or  at  war  with,  our 
desires.  The  sources  of  enjoyment  which  faith  brings 
nigh  unto  the  soul,  must  seem  unreal  to  a  man 
whose  vision  is  bounded  by  sense,  while  the  sub 
mission  which  faith  requires  contravenes  all  the 
natural  passions  of  the  heart,  and  conflicts  with  the 
plans  and  purposes  in  which  the  carnal  mind  finds 
its  highest  enjoyment.  The  objects  of  faith  must, 
therefore,  wear  a  visionary  aspect,  while  a  submis 
sion  to  its  control  must  be  as  undesirable  as  the 
plans  and  purposes  with  which  it  conflicts  are  dear 
to  the  heart.  I  speak  in  accordance  with  the  con 
sciousness  of  every  man  who  is  out  of  Christ.  The 
highest  attainment  which  a  carnal  mind  reaches 
upon  the  subject  of  religion  is  a  simple  conviction 
of  its  necessity  ;  its  necessity,  as  something  which, 
however  unpleasant  and  even  painful,  must  be  sub 
mitted  to  as  an  alternative  to  greater  evils.  I  re 
peat,  I  do  not  wonder  that  such  a  mind  looks  upon 
religion  with  distaste,  and  postpones  attention  to  it, 
and  endeavours  to  evade  the  necessity  which  is 
forced  upon  it,  by  pushing  forward  the  decisive  ques 
tion  of  submission  to  the  extremest  verge  of  safety. 

And  yet,  my  brethren,  there  is  "  peace  in  believ 
ing  ;"  the  purest,  the  most  rational,  and  solid  and 


PEACE   IN    BELIEVING.  105 

satisfying  peace  of  which  the  mind  can  form  any 
conception.     Nay,  we  take  higher  ground  than  this, 
there  is  peace  in  nothing  else.     The  human  spirit 
can  find  nothing  upon  which  it  can  rest  securely, 
but   that   testimony    of    God   upon   which   faith 
fastens  ;  the  human  conscience  can  find  no  where, 
but  in  this  testimony,  any  thing  which  can  com 
pose  it  to  quiet ;  the  human  heart   can   discover 
only  in  the  revelations  of  a  spiritual  and  eternal 
world,  that  which  can   satisfy   its  cravings,   and 
meet  all  its  desires.     Man  never  can  be  at  peace, 
but  as   a  believer  in   Jesus  Christ.     Indeed,  ever 
since  the  days  of  the  original  apostacy,  when  he 
threw  away  his  confidence  in  God,  he  has  thought 
differently ;  and  while  the  history  of  the  world  is  a 
history  of  experiments  upon  this  subject,  it  is  a 
history  of  their  failures  likewise.     Not  a  single  in 
stance  of  a  practical  contradiction  of  this  great  truth 
has  yet  been  furnished ;  while  every  man  who  has 
submitted  to  "  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  has 
found  what  none  of  the  discoveries  of  human  reason, 
what   none  of   the  costly    sacrifices   and  painful 
austerities  of  superstition,  what  neither  the  wealth, 
nor  the  honours,  nor  pleasures  of  the  world  can 
furnish — "  rest  for  his  soul?  Now,  upon  this  general 
point,   though   I  may   not    be   able   to    secure   a 
sympathy  of  feeling  from  many  of  my  hearers,  I 
think  I  can  secure  a  sympathy  of  conviction  from 
all.     I  can  show  that  this  must  be  so,  though  I 
may  not  awaken  the  feeling  that  it  is  so. 

If  you  ask  me  here  what  I  mean  by  " believing" 
my  answer  is  this — it  is  that  state  of  mind  in  which 


106  PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

a  man  receives  as  true  the  entire  testimony  of  God, 
as  given  to  us  upon  these  sacred  pages.  Every 
principle  which  is  here  laid  down  is  considered  as 
firmly  settled,  past  all  dispute  ;  as  infallible  a  rule 
of  human  action,  as  any  which  have  resulted  from 
the  discoveries  of  human  reason — the  objects  of 
the  spiritual  world  which  it  reveals  are  as  real,  as 
are  any  of  those  of  which  we  have  the  evidence  of 
sense,  and  the  promises  which  it  unfolds  are  as 
certain  of  their  fulfilment  as  is  the  regularity  ot 
any  of  the  movements  of  nature.  This  testimony 
of  God  covers  the  entire  length  and  breadth  of  our 
being — its  truths  appertain  "  to  the  life  which  now 
is,"  as  well  as  "  that  which  is  to  come ;"  to  our  spirit 
ual  no  more  than  to  our  temporal  relations,  to  all 
the  circumstances  and  exigencies  of  our  being — so 
that  not  only  in  respect  to  the  higher  and  more  en 
during  interests  which  belong  to  us  as  spiritual  and 
undying  creatures,  but  also  in  reference  to  all  those 
interests  which  grow  out  of  our  temporal  rela 
tions,  the  man,  and  he  alone,  who  receives  this  testi 
mony  and  rests  upon  it  as  true,  may  be  at  peace  at 
all  times,  and  amid  all  the  chances  and  changes  of 
earthly  things. 

To  make  good  this  doctrine,  I  submit  in  illustra 
tion  several  thoughts,  which  I  ask  my  hearers  care 
fully  to  ponder. 

1.  Nothing  but  the  testimony  of  God  gives  a 
man  clear  and  settled  views  upon  those  points  in 
reference  to  which  his  peace  of  mind  demands  fixed 
conclusions.  No  one  can  be  satisfied  with  himself 
in  reference  to  any  subject,  if  his  views  concerning 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  10 Y 

it  are  confused,  obscure,  or  uncertain ;  a  region  of 
shadows  and  darkness,  will  always  be  peopled  by 
the  spectres  of  an  excited  imagination,  and  our  path 
through  it  never  can.  be  trodden  with  an  unhesi 
tating,  firm  and  elastic  step.  We  must  have,  or  at 
least  think  we  have,  some  evidence  of  the  truth  of 
our  principles  before  we  can  act  freely  in  accord 
ance  with  them ;  and  of  the  certainty  of  the  end 
which  we  contemplate  before  we  can  put  forth 
any  energetic  efforts  to  reach  it.  In  philosophy 
and  the  systems  of  human  science,  the  days  of  theo 
rizing  and  speculation  have  gone  by,  and  no  system 
can  secure  our  confidence,  which  does  not  appeal  to 
the  evidence  of  facts. 

The  same  thing  must  be  true  in  our  spiritual  re 
lations.  If  we  sustain  any  such  relations,  the  interests 
belonging  to  them  must  be  paramount  to  all  others  ; 
nay,  there  is  not  a  question  which  takes  a  stronger 
hold  upon  the  human  mind,  or  is  more  disturbing 
in  its  influence,  and  for  which  our  peace  demands 
more  imperatively  a  rational  answer  than  this  one  : 
What  am  I  in  my  nature,  my  relations,  my 
destiny?  I  must  have  satisfaction  here ;  every  mind 
must  have  it.  To  be  in  this  matter  at  the  sport  of 
conjecture — now  adopting  one  principle,  and  then 
being  compelled  to  suspect  its  correctness,  is  tor 
ture — a  world  of  suspense  is  a  world  of  agony, 
especially  when  the  interests  involved  are  of  such 
amazing  magnitude.  I  carry  the  assent  of  all  my 
hearers  alone;  with  me  in  this  matter  ;  an  unsettled 

O  ' 

mini  never  can  be  at  peace;  and  then  I  go  a  step 
farther,  and  say  that  an  unbelieving  mind  must, 


108  PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

from  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  be  an  unsettled 
mind.  I  can  appeal  with  the  utmost  fearlessness 
to  the  experience  of  every  man  who  does  not  rest 
with  implicit  confidence  upon  this  testimony  ol 
God,  and  govern  himself  by  it,  that  he  has  no 
views  upon  the  subject  of  his  spiritual  relations  so 
settled  that  he  is  willing  to  abide  by  them,  and 
that  he  never  has  been  able,  though  he  has  often 
made  the  attempt,  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  his  posi 
tion  or  course.  It  is  immaterial  what  principles  he 
may  adopt,  or  to  what  system  he  may  adhere,  so 
long  as  they  are  not  the  principles  and  the  system 
of  this  written  word.  He  may  call  himself  an 
atheist,  or  a  skeptic,  if  you  please,  and  if  it  were 
possible  for  a  man  to  bring  himself  to  that  state  of 
mind  in  which  he  believed  nothing,  it  would  be  a 
state,  of  all  others,  most  unhappy.  The  unbeliev 
ing  world  is  a  world  in  which  there  is  nothing  fixed  ; 
there  is  no  truth,  no  certainty,  any  where ;  and  of 
course  there  is  nothing  upon  which  the  mind  can 
rest.  If,  perchance,  there  is  no  God,  perchance 
there  is  a  God — if  this  Bible  may  be  false,  this 
Bible  may  be  true — the  unbeliever  can  reach  no 
other  point  but  this.  With  all  his  boasted  con 
victions  there  will  be  mixed  up  the  most  harassing 
doubts ;  at  the  very  moment,  perhaps,  when  he  has 
reached  the  persuasion  that  it  is  immaterial  what 
his  feelings  and  course  may  be,  because  all  the 
teachings  of  the  Bible  concerning  God  and  human 
accountability  are  vanity,  various  apprehensions 
will  rise  up  in  conflict  with  his  conclusions,  and  an 
irrepressible,  uncontrollable  suspicion,  that  things 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  109 

may  not  be  as  he  supposes,  will  overbear  all  his 
arguments,  all  his  subtlety,  and  all  his  wit.  The 
reason  is  obvious.  Such  a  man's  conclusions  are  at 
war  with  the  promptings  of  his  own  nature.  There 
is  a  something  in  our  very  being,  as  God  made  it, 
I  care  not  what  you  call  or  how  you  explain  it,  a 
something  which  binds  us  to  the  throne.  Man  can 
never,  do  what  he  may,  break  that  mysterious 
chain  which  fastens  him  to  God;  rivers  do  not 
more  certainly  in  accordance  with  their  fixed  laws, 
roll  onward  to  the  ocean ;  the  fire  does  not  more 
certainly  ascend,  than  do  our  minds,  by  virtue  of 
their  own  inherent  laws,  tend  heavenward ;  and 
always  when  the  film  of  prejudice  is  withdrawn, 
and  the  excitement  of  the  passions  subsides,  we  re 
vert  to  our  natural  apprehensions.  Hence,  in  the 
season  of  calamity,  in  the  hour  of  danger,  in  the 
prospect  of  death,  the  unbeliever  loses  all  his 
courage,  because  his  nature  compels  him  to  distrust 
and  question  his  own  principles. 

It  is  no  better,  nay,  it  is  worse  with  the  man  who 
intellectually  honours  this  testimony  of  God  and 
yet  does  not  admit  its  principles  to  control  his 
heart  and  shape  his  course.  Many  a  man  is  there 
in  our  world  who  would  seek  his  peace  of  mind  in 
a  compromise  between  the  convictions  of  his  judg 
ment  and  the  feelings  of  his  heart.  Admitting  the 
truth  of  the  gospel  testimony,  and  unsubmissive  to 
its  requirements,  he  finds  his  source  of  mental 
trouble,  not  in  a  doubtfulness  as  to  the  propriety  of 
his  course,  but  in  a  clear,  settled  conviction  of  his 
error ;  he  knows,  he  feels  that  he  is  not  what  he 


110  PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

ought  to  be.  He  may,  as  lie  often  does,  weave  an 
ingenious  system  of  religion,  comprising  some  truth, 
but  so  mingled  with  error  that  its  power  is  com 
pletely  neutralized,  by  means  of  which  he  may  en 
deavour  to  satisfy  his  mind.  He  may  rest  upon  an 
outward  conformity  to  the  requirements  of  the 
truth,  or  upon  a  submission  to  the  external  cere 
monial  of  religion,  and  thus  try  to  smother  his  con 
victions  and  fears,  but  he  can  never  destroy  them. 
There  is  a  meaning,  and  he  feels  it,  which  he  has 
never  mastered,  in  language  like  this,' — "  Except  ye 
repent,  ye  shall  perish  ;"  "  Except  a  man  be  born 
again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  There 
is,  after  all  that  may  be  said  to  the  contrary,  a 
spirituality  in  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament ; 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  new  creation  in  Christ 
Jesus  to  which  he  is  a  stranger  ;  and  as  he  ponders 
such  thoughts,  he  cannot  but  feel  that  he  has  never 
approached  in  his  experience  the  standard  of  God's 
testimony ;  and  the  foundation  of  his  peace  is 
broken  up,  and  his  confidence  is  cast  to  the  winds, 
for  he  finds  that  his  heart  is  not  in  unison  with  the 
spirit  of  those  requirements,  which,  at  the  same 
time,  his  conscience  pronounces  to  be  just  and  good. 
The  unbeliever  must  be  at  war  with  himself. 

I  must  advance  no  argument  upon  this  point,  for 
man  is  an  argument  to  himself.  The  human  heart, 
laid  bare  to  view,  would  reveal  this  inward  conflict 
of  which  I  have  been  speaking.  The  emotions 
which  often  are  wakened  in  the  bosom,  if  gifted 
with  a  voice  and  speech,  would  but  utter  a  lan 
guage  responsive  to  my  illustration.  There  is  no 


PEACE    IN    BELIEVING.  Ill 

peace  where  there  is  no  believing.  Man  is  not  sat 
isfied  with  himself.  He  is  afraid,  if  he  is  not  sure 
that  he  is  wrong;.  He  is  not  contented  with  his 

O 

position,  his  relations,  or  his  course.  His  fears,  his 
convictions,  his  hopes,  his  resolutions,  his  purposes 
of  a  change,  each  and  all,  constitute  the  evidence 
which  human  experience  furnishes  of  the  truth  of 
my  doctrine,  that  there  is  no  tranquillity  separate 
from  confidence  in  Christ. 

But  there  is  "  peace  in  believing."     To  the  man 
of  intelligent,  heartfelt,  yet  childlike  faith  in  the 
testimony  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  principles  and  pro 
mises  of  that  testimony  are  what  the  facts  of  na 
ture  are  to  the  philosopher — absolute  certainties,  in 
which  the  mind  may  rest.     He  never  is  the  subject 
of  doubt,  while  his  views  of  things  are  conformed 
to  the  disclosures  of  this  testimony,  and  his  feeling 
and  course,  are  in  harmony  writh  its  requirements. 
In  resting  upon  this  word  as  the  ultimate  ground 
of  certainty,  in  taking  from  it  his  ends,  his  rules, 
his  motives,  his  encouragements — all  the  powers 
and  elements  of  his  nature  work  in  harmony  with 
each  other ;   his  conscience,  his  intellect,  and  his 
heart,  draw  together.   "What  the  mind  perceives  to 
be  taught  here  as  true,  conscience  approves  as  right, 
and  the  heart  loves  as  good.     The  man  has  never 
yet  been  found,  who  felt  that  he  was  doing  wrong 
in  submitting  himself  in  a  spirit  of  implicit  faith 
to  the  truth  of  Jesus  Christ.    His  submission  has 
always  been  the  source  of  his  peace ;   a  peace  as 
deep,  and  refreshing  and  satisfying  as  his  faith  has 
been  strong  and  decided. 


112  PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

I  mean,  however,  by  this  "  peace  in  believing," 
something  more  than  a  mere  freedom  from  anxiety 
and  doubt ;  it  is  a  peace  inseparable  from  an  intel 
ligent  conviction  of  truth  and  right.     I  suppose  a 
man   by  indulging   certain   processes   of  thought 
and  feeling  may  reach  that  state  of  mental  and 
moral  insensibility  in  which  it  will  be  a  question  of 
indifference  to  him  whether  this  word  is  true  or 
false ;  precisely  as  a  man  may  so  vitiate  his  taste 
as  to  be  unable  to  distinguish  between  bitter  and 
sweet,  between  wholesome  nutriment  and  the  most 
deadly  poisons.     There  is  a  vast  difference,  how 
ever,  between  the  composure  produced  by  artificial 
means  which  deaden  the  sensibilities  to  the  action 
of  painful  causes,  and  that  which  belongs  to  man 
upon  whom  no  such  causes  act,  and  who  in  a  state 
of  perfect  health  sinks  to  repose.     The  believer  is 
at  peace  not  because  he  is  stupified  and  insensible, 
but  because  he  is  satisfied  that  he  is  right.    We  all 
feel  that  there  are  some  obligations  resting  upon 
ns ;  there  are  some  feelings,  there  are  some  actions 
which  are  right,  and  there  are   some  which  are 
wrong.     This  consciousness  of  obligation  is  some 
thing  altogether  independent  of  our  feelings.     It 
rises  above  the  reach  of  every  argument  which 
would  disprove  it,  and  triumphs  over  the  strongest 
passions  of  our  being.     So  deeply  is  this  conscious 
ness  inwrought  among  the  elements  of  our  being, 
that   every   man,   not  even   the  atheist  excepted, 
in   his   modes   of  speech  proves  himself  its   sub 
ject  ;    and    there   can   be   no   rational   peace   for 
the   human    spirit   unless    this   consciousness   and 


PEACE    IN   BELIEVING.  113 

our  feelings  harmonize ;  and  this  is  the  peace 
of  believing  in  Jesus  Christ.  Its  subject,  when 
in  view  of  the  testimony  of  God  he  repents  of 
his  sins ;  when  in  view  of  the  work  of  Christ 
he  casts  himself  upon  him  as  a  redeeming  Saviour ; 
when  in  view  of  the  promises  which  are  here  re 
corded,  he  commits  all  his  interests  in  a  spirit  of 
trustful  reliance  to  his  Lord  and  master ;  when  in 
view  of  the  requirements  of  these  written  oracles, 
he  marks  out  his  path  of  duty  and  goes  forward 
without  hesitation  or  reserve,  feels  that  he  is 
doing  precisely  what  he  ought  to  do;  whatever 
he  may  be  in  other  respects,  in  these  he  is  right, 
and  he  knows  it ;  and  this  consciousness  of  right 
doing  is  a  possession  which  worlds  are  too  poor  to 
purchase.  There  is  something  in  a  sense  of  right 
doing  which  is  satisfying  to  the  mind ;  in  any  rela 
tion  to  our  fellow  man,  there  is  something  exceed 
ingly  sweet  and  greatly  refreshing  in  the  thought 
that  we  have  done  precisely  what  we  ought  to  have 
done  ;  and  it  is  an  analogous  experience  in  the  re 
lation  between  man's  soul  and  the  God  who  made, 
who  controls,  and  who  will  judge  it,  to  which  we 
refer,  when  we  speak  of  "  peace  in  believing."  It 
may  indeed  be  so,  that  the  experience  of  the  Chris 
tian  is  not  unfrequently  an  experience  of  anxiety, 
and  that  because  his  confidence  in  the  word  and 
promise  of  this  testimony  is  shaken.  There  may  be 
doubting  Christians,  and  therefore  unhappy  Chris 
tians  ;  but  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a  doubting 
faith.  If  God  has  spoken  in  this  sacred  volume,  if 
these  principles  which  are  here  unfolded  have  his 
8 


114  PEACE    IN    BELIEVING. 

sanction,  if  these  commandments  have  his  authority, 
if  these  promises  have  been  uttered  by  him,  then 
as  they  are  the  disclosures  and  commandments  and 
promises  of  one  who  is  infallible  truth,  there  can 
be  no  room  for  doubt.  The  objects  of  Christian 
faith  are  something  more  than  mere  human  notions, 
speculations,  conjectures,  or  opinions ;  they  are 
ascertained  virtues,  because  they  are  confirmed  by 
the  testimony  of  one  who  cannot  lie.  Let  me  be 
persuaded  that  God  has  spoken  here,  and  in  em 
bracing  these  principles,  I  am  sure  I  am  embracing 
truth ;  in  obeying  these  commandments,  I  am  sure 
I  am  doing  right ;  in  trusting  these  promises,  I  am 
sure  of  the  results  they  contemplate.  Faith  in 
God's  testimony  necessarily  excludes  every  thing 
like  doubt ;  and  if  I  am  harassed  by  anxieties  as 
to  my  principles,  my  course,  or  my  ends,  I  do  but 
show  myself  to  be  under  the  influence  of  "  an  evil 
heart  of  unbelief." 

2.  My  second  thought  in  illustration  of  our  gen 
eral  doctrine,  has  been,  to  some  extent,  involved  in 
my  first,  and  yet  it  demands  a  distinct  considera 
tion  ;  it  refers  to  the  testimony  of  God  as  fur 
nishing  the  only  source  of  intelligent  peace  to  the 
human  conscience.  I  do  not  think  I  am  wrong, 
when  I  speak  of  a  pressure  of  conscious  guilt  upon 
the  spirit,  as  marking,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
the  experience  of  every  man  who  is  not  a  believer 
in  Jesus  Christ.  "We  all  acknowledge  our  sinfulness. 
However  varied  may  be  men's  theories  upon  the 
subject  of  human  sinfulness,  their  feelings  always 
harmonize  in  this — that  they  are  not  what  they 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  115 

ought  to  be,  and  have  not  done  what  they  ought 
to  have  done.  We  are,  moreover,  so  constituted, 
that  the  conviction  of  wrong-doing  is  always  con 
nected  with  painful  emotions  ;  we  cannot  separate 
in  our  minds  the  idea  of  sin  against  God,  from  the 
idea  of  retribution ;  and  the  anticipations  of  the 
future,  joined  to  the  reflections  of  the  past,  must  be 
a  source  of  disquietude.  Now,  we  can  never  reason 
these  convictions  out  of  existence.  The  human 
conscience  is  not  to  be  argued  down  by  the  sophis 
tries  of  a  deceitful  heart.  Its  voice  may  be 
drowned,  its  reproofs  may  be  hushed,  and  if  man's 
life  was  a  monotony  of  health,  and  prosperity,  and 
worldly  joy,  it  might  be  a  monotony  of  spiritual 
insensibility ;  but  every  change,  (and  changes  are 
numerous,)  gives  conscience  an  opportunity  to  act. 
When  any  danger  is  near  or  any  calamity  approach 
es,  this  consciousness  of  wrong  and  these  apprehen 
sions  of  its  consequences,  wake  at  once  within  us, 
and  fill  us  with  agitation  and  alarm.  Now,  my 
dgctrine  is,  that  no  where  but  in  the  testimony  of 
God,  which  is  here  presented  to  our  faith,  can  we 
find  any  thing  which  can  give  rational  and  abiding 
peace  to  an  enlightened  conscience.  Men  have 
adopted  divers  expedients  upon  this  subject,  with 
out  success.  Some  have  resorted  to  philosophy  and 
turned  stoics,  but  they  have  failed  ;  some  have  fled 
to  the  regions  of  literature,  or  tried  to  escape  from 
the  realities  of  things  by  living  in  the  dreamy 
world  of  poetry  and  fiction,  but  they  have  failed. 
Some  have  entered  upon  a  career  of  worldly  am 
bition,  chasing  worldly  glory  as  their  end,  or  pur- 


116  PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

suing  worldly  wealth  as  their  chief  good.  Some 
have  sought  relief  in  the  witchery  of  song,  or  the 
mazes  of  the  dance,  and  have  endeavoured  to  crush 
and  kill  thought  in  the  splendid  circles  where  God 
is  unknown,  and  amid  the  fascinations  by  means  of 
which  earth  holds  spell-bound  its  votaries.  But 
this  conscience  finds  man  every  where.  It  presents 
to  him  problems  which  his  philosophy  cannot  mas 
ter,  it  sheds  around  him  a  light  in  which  earthly 
glory  grows  dim,  it  peoples  the  dreamy  world 
which  his  imagination  describes  around  him  with 
spectres  which  he  cannot  lay ;  it  heralds  a  future 
for  which  wealth  makes  no  provision,  and  throws  a 
gloomy  haze  over  the  brilliant  scene  of  this  world's 
revelries,  so  that  he  sickens  in  the  midst  of  earthly 
joys,  and  in  the  midst  of  laughter  his  heart  is  made 
heavy. 

But,  my  brethren,  there  is  "  peace  in  believing." 
There  is  that  in  this  testimony  of  God,  which 
satisfies  conscience,  as  well  as  enlightens  the 
mind.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  faith  in  "the 
record  which  God  has  given  of  his  Son,"  will  re 
lieve  the  mind  of  all  sense  of  past  guilt ;  but  it 
puts  that  guilt  in  new  connections,  and  strips  it  of 
that  fear  which  hath  torment — the  plan  of  forgiv 
ing  mercy  which  the  gospel  reveals,  sets  this  thought 
distinctly  before  the  mind,  that  the  work  of  Jesus 
Christ  as  an  atoning  Saviour  has  taken  away  the 
necessity  of  punishment;  and  the  simple  assurance 
that  "the  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  us  from  all 
sin,"  becomes  an  effectual  balm  for  the  wounded 
spirit.  The  man  who  believes  it,  adds  his  testi- 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

mony  to  that  of  thousands,  whose  experience  has 
verified  the  sentiment  of  the  apostle,  "  being  justi 
fied  by  faith  we  have  peace  with  God  through,  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Explain  it  as  you  may,  here 
is  the  fact ;  a  fact  seen  in  no  other  circumstances  and 
connections,  that  the  man  who  casts  himself  in  con 
fidence  upon  this  simple  assurance  of  God  is  at  rest 
— he  can  look  at  his  transgressions,  not  indeed 
without  repentance,  not  without  humiliation  of 
soul,  but  without  alarm,  and  anticipate,  (no  one  but 
he  can  do  so)  not  only  unappalled,  but  with  calm 
ness,  with  joy  even,  the  day  of  irreversible  decision, 
when  God  shall  give  unto  every  man  according  to 
his  works.  His  peace  is  always  in  exact  proportion 
to  his  confidence — if  his  faith  is  weak,  his  hope  will 
be  a  trembling  one ;  and  as  his  confidence  in  the 
word  of  this  testimony  increases  in  strength,  his  de 
liverance  from  the  painful  apprehensions  of  con 
scious  guilt  is  made  perfect. 

3.  I  must  add  another  thought  to  complete  the 
outline  of  my  subject.  Nothing  but  faith  in  this 
testimony  can  give  the  heart  an  object  in  which  it 
can  rest.  Disquiet,  dissatisfaction,  restlessness  have 
been  the  attributes  of  human  experience  ever  since 
the  days  of  the  original  apostacy,  because  then  man 
threw  away  his  confidence,  and  ever  since  has  been 
endeavouring  to  fill  with  the  creature  the  place 
which  was  intended  for  the  Creator.  What  are 
the  disappointments  of  this  world,  so  many,  so  se 
vere,  so  biting,  so  crushing,  but  the  illustrations 
which  Providence  is  every  day  working  out,  and 
the  testimonies  which  human  nature  is  every  day 


118  PEACE    IN    BELIEVING. 

furnishing  of  the  variety  of  human  pursuits. 
Roving  amid  the  objects  of  earth,  we  find  no 
thing  upon  which  we  can  rest  with  full  satis 
faction,  because  there  is  nothing  created  which 
can  meet  all  the  desires,  and  fill  up  all  the  capaci 
ties  of  our  spirits.  The  laws  of  the  mental  and  spir 
itual  world  are  as  fixed  as  those  of  the  natural 
world  ;  and  the  efforts  after  happiness  of  a  human 
soul  estranged  from  God  are  no  less  idle  than 
would  be  those  of  a  man  who  should  essay  to 
reverse  the  laws  of  gravitation,  or  blot  out  the 
sun  from  the  system,  or  check  the  world  in  its  revo 
lutions.  There  is  no  human  experience,  whether 
recorded  or  unrecorded,  which  at  all  clashes  with 
this  general  thought ;  ask  the  unbeliever,  who  has 
no  God,  no  Saviour,  if  he  is  satisfied  ;  ask  the  child 
of  revelry  and  song,  why  he  sickens  amid  all  the 
excitements  of  the  passions.  If  you  are  unrecon 
ciled  to  God,  look  into  your  own  heart,  and  see  if 
you  could  be  contented  under  the  full  assurance 
that  you  should  never  be  different  from  what  you 
now  are,  and  never  possess  but  what  now  belongs 
to  you.  We  must  rest  in  God,  my  brethren,  if  we 
rest  at  all ;  and  yet  nothing  but  faith  can  bring  us 
to  this  resting  place.  You  may  look  at  God  as  he  re 
veals  himself  in  the  works  of  nature,  or  in  the  deal 
ings  of  Providence,  or  in  the  movements  of  the 
human  conscience  ;  but  in  all  these  disclosures  there 
is  more  to  awaken  distrust  than  to  inspire  confi 
dence.  It  is  God  as  revealed  in  this  testimony 
that  the  heart  can  rest  upon  ;  and  it  is  only  as  we 
embrace  by  faith  this  testimony,  and  see  God  in 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  119 

Jesus  Christ,  that  we  can  go  to  the  throne,  and  say 
in  the  spirit  of  children,  "  Abba,  Father."  Under 
the  influence  of  this  faith,  I  can  perceive  that  the 
perfections  of  God  are  not  only  not  arrayed  against 
me,  but  are  actually  enlisted  in  my  favour ;  he  is 
now  my  shield  and  my  defence,  my  joy,  and  my 
portion,  and  the  lifter  up  of  my  head;  and  no 
sooner  do  I  see  him  thus  than  I  say,  "  Return  unto 
thy  rest,  O  my  soul." 

I  speak  not  the  language  of  theory  but  of  fact. 
When  I  speak  of  "  peace  in  believing,"  I  speak  of 
the  results  of  actual  experiment — an  experiment, 
too,  which  has  been  tried  at  all  times  and  in  all 
circumstances,  and  by  all  classes  and  conditions  of 
men.  It  is  a  sad  mistake  which  the  men  of  the 
world  commit,  when  they  suppose  that  none  but 
the  wretched,  the  poor,  the  miserable,  and  they 
who  have  not  the  means  of  securing  other  enjoy 
ment,  testify  to  the  reality  of  a  "  peace  in  believ 
ing."  To  a  great  extent  it  may  be  so,  and  then  it  is 
not  an  insignificant  testimony  to  the  value  of  reli 
gion,  that  it  can  do  what  the  world  has  never  done, 
give  to  the  forlorn,  the  down-trodden,  and  the  out 
cast,  peace  and  joy.  But  not  only  they  who  have 
had  no  earthly  cistern  from  which  to  drink,  but 
they  whose  cisterns  have  been  full,  have  forsaken 
them  for  this  fountain  of  living  waters.  There 
have  been  men  of  royalty  who  have  never  known 
true  peace  till  they  have  laid  their  crowns  at  the 
feet  of  Christ,  and  covered  their  princely  robes 
with  the  garments  of  salvation ;  and  they  who  have 
followed  ambitious  promptings,  and  they  who  have 


120  PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

trodden  the  halls  of  splendour,  have  fled  the  camp, 
the  cabinet,  and  the  festive  board  to  seek  rest  for 
their  spirits  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  It  is  "  a 
great  cloud  of  witnesses,"  who  attend  at  our  sum 
mons  to  testify  to  the  reality  of  "  peace  in  believ 
ing  ;"  from  the  poor  man's  cottage  and  from  the  rich 
man's  palace,  from  the  associations  of  haggard  want 
and  the  ease  and  luxury  of  earthly  abundance,  from 
amid  the  subjects  of  earthly  trials  and  those  whose 
lives  have  been  crowned  with  prosperity,  from  the 
circles  of  the  gay  and  the  frivolous,  from  the  ball 
room  and  the  theatre,  as  well  as  from  the  chamber 
of  sickness  and  afflictions,  out  of  all  classes,  and 
ranks,  and  conditions  of  men,  from  Newton  as  he 
treads  with  lofty  and  majestic  step  the  firmament, 
down  to  the  humble  shepherd  who  feeds  his  flock 
upon  Salisbury  plain,  they  come,  each  one  uttering 
the  strain, — 

"  People  of  the  living  God, 

"We  have  sought  the  world  around, 
Paths  of  sin  and  sorrow  trod, 

Peace  and  comfort  no  where  found. 
Now  to  you  my  spirit  turns, 

Turns,  a  fugitive  unblest, 
Brethren,  when  your  altar  burns, 

0  !  receive  me  into  rest ;" 

and  when  they  have  cast  themselves  in  confidence 
upon  the  testimony  of  God,  then  has  their  lan 
guage  been,  "  Thou  art  my  portion,  O  Lord."  "  As 
the  heart  panteth  after  the  water  brooks,  so  pant- 
eth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God."  "  Whom  have  I 
in  heaven  but  thee,  and  there  is  none  upon  earth 
whom  I  desire  beside  thee ;  my  flesh  and  my  heart 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  121 

faileth,  "but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart,  and 
my  portion  for  ever."  "As  for  me,  I  will  be 
hold  thy  face  in  righteousness,  I  shall  be  satisfied 
when  I  awaken  in  thy  likeness."  There  is  "  peace 
and  joy  in  believing." 

Allow  me  here,  my  brethren,  to  arrest  my  sub 
ject,  though,  my  remarks  have  had  reference  only 
to  our  spiritual  relations,  and  have  left  wholly  un 
touched  the  influence  of  faith  in  God's  testimony 
upon  our  experience  amid  the  varied  and  changing 
scenes  and  circumstances  of  the  present  life.  I 
claim  your  attention  for  but  one  moment  longer  to 
two  very  simple  thoughts. 

I  do  not  think  that  I  have  been  wandering  from 
the  point  which  should  properly  engage  a  Chris 
tian's  mind  upon  a  sacramental  Sabbath.  We  come 
to-day  to  commemorate  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  a 
death  which  sets  a  seal  upon  the  truth  of  his  tes 
timony.  We  have  here  then  a  means  of  strength 
ening  our  faith,  and  bringing  us  to  the  enjoyment 
of  our  privileges.  If  ever  a  Christian's  mind  should 
be  at  peace,  it  should  be  at  a  communion  table, 
where,  by  means  of  striking  symbols,  the  evidence 
of  the  truth  of  this  testimony  is  vividly  presented 
to  him.  Here  those  doubts,  which  so  often  disturb 
our  peace,  that  unbelief  which  cripples  us  and 
mars  our  enjoyments,  are  out  of  place.  Here,  as 
we  profess  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  to  set  to  our 
seal  that  God  is  true,  let  us  give  our  fears  to  the 
winds,  and  bid  all  our  doubts  to  be  gone ;  and  in 
the  exercise  of  that  confidence  which  Christ's  work 
is  calculated  to  inspire,  learn  to  say,  "  We  know 


122  PEACE   IN   BELIEVING. 

in  whom  we  have  believed."  We  are  at  the  source 
of  these  comforts  which  faith  ministers  to  the 
spirit,  because  we  are  in  communion  with  the  great 
fact — a  Saviour's  death — which  forms  the  burden  of 
the  inspired  testimony.  May  the  God  of  peace  then 
fill  our  minds  with  all  peace  and  joy  in  believing. 

Then,  for  my  last  thought,  I  address  it  to  the 
wanderer  from  his  God.  I  call  him  an  unhappy 
man,  only  that  I  may  echo  his  own  sincerest  senti 
ments.  It  may  be  a  strange  thought  which  I  bring 
you,  but  it  is  a  true  one.  You  cannot  do  without 
confidence  in  God.  There  is  no  peace  for  that  sin- 
stricken,  weary  spirit,  but  the  peace  of  believing 
upon  Jesus  Christ.  Nothing  but  this  can  fix  that 
wavering,  uncertain,  doubting  mind ;  nothing  but 
this  will  minister  peace  to  that  uneasy  conscience, 
nothing  but  this  will  give  rest  to  that  dissatisfied 
and  unquiet  heart.  You  are  a  wanderer  from  home, 
and  must  return  to  your  father's  house.  Where 
you  are,  nothing  can  give  you  peace ;  neither  busi 
ness,  nor  wealth,  nor  fame,  nor  pleasure ;  nothing 
can  give  you  peace,  estranged  from  God.  No  por 
tion  which  earth  can  give  can  to  the  human  spirit 
be  a  substitute  for  its  Creator.  You  may  be  false 
to  yourself  and  false  to  heaven,  but  conscience  and 
the  world  will  be  true  to  the  God  who  made  them ; 
the  one  will  not  allow  you  to  be  at  peace  divorced 
from  him,  the  other  will  never  furnish  you  with 
happiness,  except  as  he  permits  it ;  you  may  doubt 
it,  but  your  experience  will  demonstrate  it ;  and  if 
you  ever  have  peace  or  joy,  you  will  find  it  only  in 
believing  upon  Jesus  Christ.  We  would  summon 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  123 

you  away  from  your  wanderings,  and  call  you  back 
to  God.  Here  is  the  fountain  of  living  water ;  and 
the  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  come;  and  let  him 
that  heareth  say,  come  ;  and  let  him  that  is  athirst, 
come  ;  and  whosoever  will  let  him  take  of  the  water 
of  life  freely.  Come  then,  and  rest  upon  Christ, 
and  be  at  peace  ;  come  and  drink  of  this  fountain, 
and  live  for  ever. 


PEACE  IN  BELIEVING. 


"  The  Lord  will  perfect  that  which  concerneth  me." 

— PSALM  cxxxviii.  8. 

"  What  time  I  am  afraid,  I  will  trust  in  thee." — PSALM  Ivi.  4. 
"  Lead  me  to  the  rock  that  is  higher  than  I." — PSALM  Ixi.  2. 

THE  language  of  the  text  is  that  of  strong  and 
intelligent  confidence ;  and  as  an  illustration  of  the 
nature  and  effects  of  such  confidence,  we  have 
selected  it  as  the  basis  of  our  remarks  this  morning. 
It  is  the  picture  of  a  human  mind  at  rest,  and  at 
rest  in  view  of  the  word  and  the  character  of  the 
living  God.  It  is  the  more  interesting  to  us,  be 
cause  it  is  the  exhibition  of  this  confidence  in  the 
hour  of  its  trial.  The  language  we  have  set  before 
you  is  not  that  of  a  man  who  theorizes  in  circum 
stances  of  outward  prosperity  and  quiet — who  is  at 
rest  because  there  is  nothing  in  his  present  con 
dition  to  annoy  and  disturb  him,  and  nothing  seen 
in  the  future  to  awaken  painful  apprehensions — 
but  that  of  a  man  in  the  most  depressing  circum 
stances — uttered  in  an  hour  of  peril,  when  the  pre 
sent  was  all  disaster,  and  the  future  all  gloom  ; 
when  earthly  confidences  failed  him,  and  the 
vanity  of  human  help  was  demonstrated,  and 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  125 

nothing  was  left  upon  which  to  stay  his  spirit,  but 
simple  confidence  in  God.  We  need  not  attempt 
to  ascertain  the  precise  posture  of  David's  affairs 
at  the  time  when  he  gave  utterance  to  the  words 
of  my  text— perhaps  it  is  impossible  to  do  so.  It 
is  enough  for  our  present  purpose  to  know  that  it 
was  such  as  to  show  the  utter  uselessness  of  all 
human  trust,  and  shut  him  up  to  simple  faith  in  the 
word  of  God,  as  his  only  source  of  peace  ;  and  in 
the  composure  of  his  mind,  as  he  strengthened 
himself  in  God,  assured  that  he  would  perfect  that 
which  concerned  him ;  he  teaches  us  that  there  is 
that  on  which  the  human  spirit  can  rest,  and  in 
which  it  can  find  strength  to  sustain  it  under  pre 
sent  ills,  and  support  it  against  the  apprehensions 
of  future  woes. 

We  were  permitted  upon  the  last  Sabbath  to 
illustrate  this  thought  in  reference  to  man's  spirit 
ual  relations,  and  to  show  how  simple  confidence 
in  the  character  and  testimony  of  God  can  give  a 
man  a  rational  and  abiding  peace ;  our  purpose 
upon  the  present  occasion  is  to  carry  out  this 
thought,  and  show  that  there  is  a  "  promise  for  the 
life  which  now  is,"  as  well  as  "that  which  is  to 
come ;  and  that  the  peace  which  faith  ministers  to 
the  spirit,  appertains  as  well  to  the  temporal  as  to 
the  spiritual  circumstances  of  our  being. 

I  need  hardly  say,  my  brethren,  that  the  life 
which  we  live  in  the  flesh,  is  a  chequered  scene ; 
monotonous  prosperity  is  and  can  be  no  man's 
allotment.  A  world  of  probation  must  be  a  world 
of  trial,  and  trial  always  painful,  oftentimes  exces- 


126  PEACE    IN   BELIEVING. 

sively  severe.  Even  where  tlie  outward  condition 
generally  is  one  of  the  greatest  comfort  and  the 
brightest  promise,  there  are  nevertheless  some 
scenes  through  which  men  are  called  to  pass,  in 
which  their  hearts  fail  them  through  fear,  and  an 
guish  preys  upon  their  spirits ;  scenes  where  we 
must  have  what  earth  can  never  give  us,  scenes 
where  human  fortitude  is  overborne,  and  even 
earthly  sympathy  will  not  sustain  the  spirit  under 
the  crushing  weight  which  is  thrown  upon  it.  If 
you  have  never  passed  through  such  scenes,  they 
await  you  yet.  I  cannot  tell  in  what  form  these 
trials  may  come,  nor  when  they  will  touch  you, 
but  come  they  will,  and  you  never  can  pass  through 
them  in  peace,  except  as  your  spirits  cling  in  the 
exercise  of  a  truthful,  relying  spirit  to  the  word 
and  testimony  of  God.  "  But  the  people  that  do 
know  their  God,  shall  be  strong."  Confidence  al 
ways  brings  peace,  and  the  man  has  never  yet  been 
found,  in  any  circumstances,  under  any  form  of  ca 
lamity,  who  as  his  faith  fastens  upon  the  word  and 
promise  of  God,  could  not  possess  his  soul  in  patience, 
and  even  "rejoice  in  tribulation." 

Now  in  illustrating  this  thought  let  me  be  dis 
tinctly  understood.  I  do  not  mean  to  take  the 
position  that  a  man  may  upon  the  ground  of  his 
faith  calculate  upon  an  exemption  from  trials.  It 
does  not  follow  if  I  believe  in  God  that  he  will  of 
course  give  me  peace  and  quiet  in  all  my  external 
relations.  It  does  not  follow  by  any  means  that  I 
shall  be  able  to  carry  all  my  earthly  purposes  into 
execution,  and  that  I  shall  be  free  from  all  disturb- 


PEACE    IN   BELIEVING.  127 

ing  causes  ;  on  the  contrary,  "  peace  in  believing" 
is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  most  disastrous 
events  in  these  outward  relations ;  it  is  perfectly 
consistent  with  defeated  plans,  thwarted  wishes, 
and  blasted  hopes.  No  such  exemption  from  trial 
is  ever  contemplated  in  any  word  or  promises  of 
God  upon  which  faith  fastens ;  on  the  contrary,  the 
assurance  is  that  "  in  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribu 
lation."  Nor  do  I  mean  to  say,  that  nothing  can  be, 
strictly  speaking,  a  trial  to  a  man  of  faith.  The 
peace  of  believing  is  not  insensibility.  It  is  as  far 
removed  from  the  apathy  of  the  stoic,  to  whom 
good  and  evil  are  alike,  to  whom  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  pain  and  sorrow,  as  it  is  from 
the  frenzy  of  the  fanatic,  who  upon  the  strength  ol 
a  supposed  relationship  to  God,  claims  and  boasts 
of  an  exemption  from  all  sorrow.  I  grant  you,  it 
is  possible  for  a  man  to  work  up  himself  to  a  state 
of  indifference,  for  the  time  being,  to  the  painful 
scenes  which  are  enacting  around  him ;  but  in  do 
ing  so,  he  is  warring  against  his  own  nature,  and 
contradicting  the  first  lessons  of  the  gospel  of 
Christ.  It  is  unnatural  not  to  feel  in  the  hour 
of  sorrow ;  the  smitten  heart  will  bleed  ;  the  work 
ings  of  human  nature  must  have  vent,  and 
faith  does  not  suppress  them.  God  did  not 
give  us  hearts  to  be  petrified,  sensibilities  to  be 
locked  up  in  adamant.  We  are  creatures  of 
sympathy,  and  Jesus  Christ,  as  he  wept  at  the  grave 
of  a  beloved  friend,  dignified,  as  well  as  vindicated, 
the  sacred  social  feelings  of  our  nature.  Human 
philosophy  may  comfort  us  by  blunting  the  fine 


128  PEACE    IN   BELIEVING. 

sensibilities  of  our  nature,  and  relieve  us  of  our 
distresses  by  robbing  us  of  some  of  the  nobler  attri 
butes  of  our  minds ;  but  the  religion  of  the  gospel 
refines  while  it  controls  the  susceptibilities  of  our 
nature.  It  does  not  forbid  the  heart  to  sigh  or  the 
tear  to  fall,  but  it  sets  before  the  mind  that  which 
administers  to  it  a  peace  which  will  comfort  and 
sustain  and  cheer  the  soul  in  the  darkest  hours,  and 
amid  the  most  troublous  scenes  of  our  earthly  pil 
grimage.  I  care  not  what  may  be  the  nature  or 
severity  of  human  trials,  how  withering  their  influ 
ence,  how  deep  the  wounds  they  may  inflict,  how 
thick  the  gloom  in  which  they  may  enshroud  one  ; 
faith  in  the  character  and  word  of  God  can  do  what 
nothing  else  can  do,  give  light  in  darkness,  joy  in 
sorrow,  hope  in  despondency,  and  even  convert 
"  the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning."  I  will 
point  out  to  you  the  elements  and  sources  of  its 
power,  and  give  you  some  illustrations  of  its  efficacy. 
1.  The  hand  of  God  is  in  every  thing.  No 
point  is  more  distinct  to  a  trustful,  relying  spirit,  no 
truth  is  more  settled  than  this.  There  are  no  for 
tuities  in  this  world,  there  is  not  an  event  which 
has  not  its  meaning,  its  connections,  and  its  end. 
The  confidence  which  gives  peace,  and  fixedness, 
and  strength  to  the  mind,  fastens  upon  the  views 
which  the  Bible  gives  of  God,  his  agency,  and  his 
purposes,  as  a  God  who  is  concerned  with  every 
thing,  and  who  acts  in  every  thing  in  reference  to 
an  end  worthy  of  himself.  It  has  no  sympathy 
with  that  cold  and  heartless  philosophy  which 
separates  between  God  and  his  creatures,  or  which 


PEACE    IN    BELIEVING.  129 

places  any  the  most  unimportant  or  minute  of  our 
interests  beyond  the  range  of  divine  inspection  and 
control.      There   is   nothing   comforting,   nothing 
staying  to  the  mind  in  any  such  views ;  human 
reason,  untaught  by  the  word  of  inspired  truth,  can 
give  us  only  conjectures  when  we  need  certainties; 
and  the   teachings  which  to  it  seem  most  truthful, 
are  the  most  disturbing  to  the  spirit.     I  confess 
when  I  go  away  from  the  region  upon  which  revela 
tion  has  shed  down  its  light,  I  go  where  all  is  doubt, 
and  darkness,  and  confusion.     I  can  find  no  where 
but  in  the  Bible  those  views  of  God  in  which  I  can 
rest  with  entire  satisfaction,  because  no  where  else 
can  I  see  God  interesting  himself  in,  and  managing 
all  my  affairs  as  an  individual.     If  I  thought  there 
was  one  event  among  the  occurrences  of  my  daily 
life  which  God  did  not  regard  ;  if  I  thought  there 
was  one  emotion  of  this  bosom  which  escaped  his 
notice,  one  sigh  which  he  did  not  hear,  or  one  tear 
which  he  did  not  observe ;  if  I  supposed  that  a 
single  hair  could  fall  from  my  head  without  his 
ordering  or  permission,  my  confidence  would  be 
robbed  of  the  main  element  of  its  strength.     If  a 
man  is  at  peace  in  the  exercise  of  a  trustful  confi 
dence,  it  must  be  because  he  has  something  of  the 
same  spirit  which  Hagar  had,  when  driven  out  into 
the  wilderness  and  beyond  the  hope  and  the  reach 
of  human  help,  she  said,  "  Thou  God  seest  me ;" 
something  of  the  same   spirit  which   David  had 
when  he  said,  "  O  Lord,  thou  hast  searched  me  and 
known  me ;  thou  knowest  my  down   sitting  and 
uprising,  thou  understandest  my  thought  afar  off, 
•    9 


130  PEACE    IN    BELIEVING. 

tliou  compassest  my  path  and  my  lying  down,  and 
art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways."  It  is  this  God 
—always  with  us,  directing  all  things,  arranging  all 
things,  who  is  the  object  of  that  confidence  which 
gives  fixedness  to  the  mind. 

2.  My  second  thought  is,  that  the  word  of  God 
in  which  faith  rests,  contemplates  man  in  all  the 
various  circumstances  of  his  being,  in  every  possible 
or  supposable  condition  in  which  he  may  be 
placed.  My  first  thought  had  reference  to  the 
actual  presence  of  God  with  us,  and  his  ability  as 
a  present  God  to  help  and  sustain  us.  My  second 
has  reference  to  his  positive  assurance  of  help.  The 
revelation  which  God  has  given  us  upon  the  sacred 
pages  is  wonderful  in  this  respect,  that  it  is  a  reve 
lation  of  a  promise,  and  all  its  disclosures  are  regu 
lated  by,  as  they  take  their  shape  from  the  pro 
mise  they  are  designed  to  unfold.  That  promise,  I 
mean  the  promise  of  a  Saviour,  and  of  all  good  in 
him,  covers  all  our  interests ;  hence  the  word  which 
is  here  given  to  us  is  full  of  promises,  and  they  are 
"  exceedingly  great  and  precious ;"  great  in  their 
range,  because  there  is  no  circumstance  which  they 
do  not  reach,  precious  in  their  character,  because 
there  is  no  exigency  in  our  affairs  to  which  they 
are  not  adapted.  It  is  the  beauty  and  the  charm 
of  these  inspired  oracles  that  there  is  not  a  human 
solicitude  for  which  they  do  not  contain  a  word  in 
season  ;  not  a  doubt  which  they  leave  without  a 
message  to  disperse  it ;  no  anxiety  which  they 
pass  by  without  a  whisper  to  soothe  it ;  not  a  sigh 
which  they  do  not  hush ;  not  a  tear  which  they  do 


PEACE   IN    BELIEVING.  131 

not  wipe  away.  If  this  is  not  so,  I  will  give  up  my 
point  and  renounce  iny  confidence.  There  is  no 
thing,  I  apprehend,  in  which  the  wisdom  and  good 
ness  of  God  is  so  apparent  as  in  the  exactness  and 
precision  with  which  his  words  of  promise  are 
adapted  to  the  wants  of  those  who  trust  him.  It 
is  wonderful  indeed  that  God  should  be  mindful  of 
man,  of  every  man ;  wonderful  that  he  should  attend 
to  the  wants  of  an  insect,  of  every  insect  to  which  the 
leaf  upon  which  it  rests  is  a  world.  But  when  I 
remember  what  thought  is,  over  what  an  unlimited 
range  it  can  expatiate,  and  how  many  and  varied 
are  the  materials  of  solicitude  which  it  can  gather 
in  its  wanderings,  when  I  muse  on  the  almost  end 
less  varieties  of  human  sorrow,  and  the  multipli 
city  of  causes  which  may  disquiet  one,  and  then 
find  that  there  is  not  a  doubt  or  a  sadness  for 
which  this  record  of  truth  does  furnish  a  promise ; 
when  I  know  that  the  case  has  never  yet  occurred 
of  a  man  turning  in  faith  and  prayer  to  the  Bible 
whatever  may  have  been  his  peculiar  trial  or  sad 
ness,  who  has  not  found  some  portion  of  it  which 
seemed  to  have  been  written  expressly  for  himself, 
so  that  there  has  been  a  power  in  its  words  which 
have  spoken  to  his  heart,  I  am  overwhelmed ;  and 
the  faith  which  takes  hold  upon  these  promises  as 
real,  can  give  fixedness  to  the  mind,  because  there- 
is  not  a  wave  of  trouble  which  some  promise  may 
not  repel ;  not  a  season  of  darkness  where  some 
promise  does  not  shine ;  not  a  chamber  of  gloom 
where  it  does  not  light  up  the  lamp  of  consolation  ; 
and  here  are  the  resources  of  comfort  and  strength 


132  PEACE   1ST   BELIEVING. 

for  the  confiding  spirit.  If  God  is  near  me,  if  lie  is 
engaged  in  all  my  affairs,  it  is  God  who  speaks  in 
the  promises ;  and  though  I  cannot  see  him,  I  can  hear 
him, — sometimes  it  is  when  the  waves  of  trouble 
roll  around  me,  and  he  whispers,  "Peace,  be  still ;" 
sometimes  when  I  am  called  to  pass  through  the 
fires,  and  he  says,  "  They  shall  not  gather  upon 
thee  ;"  sometimes  it  is  when  a  sore  temptation  tries 
my  spirit,  and  his  language  is,  "  My  grace  shall  be 
sufficient  for  thee."  Always  it  is  in  words  which 
meet  my  case,  and  which,  by  their  wonderful  adapt- 
edness,  prove  that  they  come  from  one  who  knows 
my  heart,  and  is  perfectly  acquainted  with  all  my 
circumstances  and  wants. 

3.  My  third  thought  is  that  all  these  promises  are 
promises  in  Christ  Jesus ;  and  herein  we  have  the 
evidence  of  their  certainty,  the  assurance  of  their  ful 
filment.  We  can  give  you  but  an  outline  of  this  gen 
eral  idea,  and  yet  it  is  too  important  to  be  omitted. 
I  fix  your  minds  then  upon  this  fact :  all  the  good 
which  comes  to  this  sinful  world  comes  through 
Christ.  If  I  speak  of  the  promise  of  pardon  to  the 
penitent,  of  forgiveness  to  the  prodigal ;  if  I  speak 
of  the  assurance  that  the  sting  shall  be  taken  from 
death,  that  the  dead  shall  be  raised,  that  eternal 
life  shall  be  secured,  you  associate  all  these  pro 
mises  and  assurances  with  the  work  of  Christ,  as 
establishing  the  certainty  of  their  fulfilment ;  but 
I  put  every  assurance  of  God's  word  in  the  same 
connection,  and  in  this  connection  alone  I  find 
ground  for  my  faith  in  their  certainty.  The  assu 
rance  that  the  sun  shall  rise  upon  the  evil  and  the 


PEACE    IN    BELIEVING.  133 

good,  that  the  fields  shall  be  covered  with  abun 
dance,  as  well  as  the  promise  that  God  will  be  a 
husband  to  the  widow,  and  a  father  to  the  father 
less,  I  put  in  the  same  connection,  and  trace  to  the 
same  source.  They  were  uttered  only  by  virtue  of 
the  covenant  with  Christ,  they  have  been  and  yet 
are  to  be  made  good,  only  because  Christ  has  ful 
filled  the  conditions  of  that  covenant.  Thus  it  is 
that  faith,  fastening  upon  the  promises  of  God  as 
promises  in  Christ,  anticipates  all  the  objections  to 
their  fulfilment  growing  out  of  our  un worthiness 
and  ill-desert.  It  meets  exactly  a  very  common 
case  in  human  experience ;  the  case  of  a  man  who 
is  staggered  by  the  greatness  of  God's  promises, 
by  the  excess  of  their  blessings  over  our  deserts, 
nay,  over  our  wishes  and  our  hopes  ;  and  to  whose 
mind  the  question  will  be  secretly  proposed,  "  c?n 
these  promises  ever  be  fulfilled?"  He  does  not, 
you  will  perceive,  intend  to  question  God's  faith 
fulness,  but  he  may  fear,  and  he  thinks  with  too 
good  ground,  that  the  promise  will  not,  on  account  of 
his  unworthiness,  be  fulfilled  to  himself.  Ah !  if  the 
promise  was  made  to  me  dependent  upon  my  de 
serts,  then,  indeed,  I  might  doubt  and  fear ;  and  it 
is  because  men  who  call  themselves  believers  look 
away  from  the  covenant  with  Christ,  and  look  to 
their  own  frames  and  feelings,  that  they  lose  the 
benefit  of  their  faith,  and  become  very  much  like 
barometers,  which  rise  and  fall  with  the  changes  of 
the  surrounding  atmosphere.  If  my  worthiness  is 
to  determine  the  fulfilment  of  God's  promises,  I  can 


134  PEACE    IN    BELIEVING. 

be  certain  of  none  of  them  ;  but  if  my  faith  fastens 
upon  Christ,  and  upon  what  he  has  done,  as  the 
ground  of  the  certainty  of  God's  promise,  there 
can  be  nothing  to  shake  it ;  while  there  might  be 
room  for  a  thousand  fears  and  suspicions,  were  every 
thing  dependent  upon  me,  whose  failures  in  obe 
dience  might  remove  me,  so  to  speak,  out  of  the 
sphere  of  the  promise.  There  is  room  only  for  fixed 
confidence  and  full  assurance,  when  every  thing 
depends  upon  what  Christ  has  done,  who  having 
in  his  humiliation  and  death  fulfilled  the  conditions 
of  the  covenant,  lives  now  in  glory,  exercising 
there  a  ministry  which  secures  the  fulfilment  of  the 
promise  to  every  one  who  believes  in  him. 

These  are  the  elements  and  sources  of  that  power 
which  faith  in  the  word  of  God's  testimony  has  to 
give  fixedness  to  the  spirit,  amid  all  changes,  and  a 
peace  which  rises  superior  to  the  influence  of  all 
the  disturbing  causes  which  may  act  upon  the 
mind ;  and  if  this  is  a  right  view  of  God,  if  he  is 
thus  near  us,  cautiously  engaged  in  all  our  concerns, 
acquainted  with  all  our  circumstances,  if  his  pro 
mises  meet  us  in  all  the  conditions  of  our  being, 
assuring  us  of  his  protection  and  care,  and  his  de 
termining  to  make  all  things  work  together  for  our 
good  ;  if  every  one  of  these  promises  is  thus  certi 
fied,  and  put  past  all  doubt,  can  it  be  otherwise 
than  that  there  must  be  peace  in  believing ;  and 
may  not  a  man,  in  any  circumstances,  be  at  rest  in 
the  full  confidence  that  "  God  will  perfect  every 
thing  concerning  him." 


PEACE    IN   BELIEVING.  135 

In  the  remarks  we  have  thus  far  thrown  out. 
we  have  given  you  what  may  be  called  the  theory 
of  our  subject,  by  exhibiting  the  elements  or 
grounds  of  a  Christian's  confidence ;  we  have  shown 
that  it  ought  to  be  a  source  of  rational  and  abiding 
peace ;  we  now  advance  a  step  farther  and  speak 
of  it  as  something  which  has  been  actually  tested 
by  experiment  and  has  never  yet  failed.  In  point 
of  fact,  this  confidence  in  God  always  does  minister 
peace  and  joy  to  the  human  spirit. 

We  have  already  remarked  that  the  life  of  every 
man  has  its  shades  as  well  as  its  lights.  There  are 
hours  of  sadness  as  well  as  of  joy — of  fear  as  well 
as  of  hope — and  it  is  in  the  seasons  of  gloom  that 
human  confidences  are  tried  ;  and  if  we  would  know 
the  value  of  a  Christian's  faith  we  must  look  at  the 
influence  it  exerts  over  the  mind  in  those  circum 
stances  in  which  naturally  mens'  hearts  fail  them 
through  fear,  and  the  character  of  their  trials 
places  them  beyond  the  reach  of  all  mere  human 
consolation. 

We  admit  that  there  are  some  of  the  calamities 
of  human  life  under  which  natural  fortitude  can 
sustain  a  man,  and  earthly  philosophy  can  cheer 
him ;  but  they  are  invariably  of  that  nature  that 
time  and  diligence  may  repair  the  injury  they  have 
occasioned.  A  man  may  be  stripped  of  his  pro 
perty,  and  yet  if  he  sees  how  he  can  make  his  losses 
good,  the  hope  of  coming  prosperity  can  sustain 
him,  the  prospect  of  future  success  may  buoy  up 
his  spirit  and  give  him  energy,  nay,  the  very  efforts 


136  PEACE   I1ST    BELIEVING. 

he  puts  forth,  to  regain  what  lie  has  lost,  may  al 
most  make  him  forget  that  he  has  been  a  loser. 

But  there  are  other  trials  which  do  not  admit  of 
any  such  alleviation  ;  there  are  losses  which  admit 
of  no  earthly  reparation ;  there  are  griefs  of  the 
human  spirit  which  are  not  to  be  assuaged  by  any 
earthly  consolations,  and  sorrows  to  which  no 
human  philosophy  can  minister  alleviation.  We 
take  you  to  the  scene  where  the  heart  bleeds  be 
cause  of  its  ruptured  ties,  where  death  has  been 
doing  his  work  in  the  household,  where  his  stroke 
has  fallen  so  as  to  be  most  surely  felt,  because  the 
fairest  and  loveliest  of  the  family  circle  has  become 
its  prey.  Here  is  a  case  upon  which  human  philos 
ophy  may  try  its  strength,  and  worldly  consolation 
may  exhaust  its  common-places,  but  the  one  is  un 
meaning,  and  the  others  are  painful ;  and  pleasure 
may  touch  the  harp  whose  strains  have  often  en 
chanted  and  seduced,  but  the  worn  and  wearied 
spirit  has  no  ear  in  the  gloom  for  what  sounded 
magically  when  a  thousand  lights  were  blazing. 
There  never  yet  was  a  man  placed  in  circumstances 
like  these  who  did  not  feel  that  he  needed  some 
thing  more  than  earth  could  give  him ;  and  these 
are  precisely  the  scenes  in  which  the  confidence  of 
which  we  speak  is  seen  in  its  beauty  and  felt  in  its 
peace-speaking  power.  The  writer,  whose  senti 
ment  we  have  been  illustrating,  uttered  not  simply 
the  language  of  theory  but  of  experience  ;  the  con 
fidence  to  which  he  gave  expression  had  been  tried. 
He  remembered  the  hour  when  his  city  was  de 
stroyed  and  his  family  were  carried  away  into  capti- 


PEACE   IN    BELIEVING.  137 

vity,  how  amid  those  who  wept  and  wailed  around 
him,  and  refused  to  be  comforted,  his  heart  was  at 
rest  because  it  was  stayed  upon  God.  We  all 
know,  moreover,  that  some  of  his  sweetest  songs 
were  sung  in  the  seasons  of  his  deepest  sorrow,  and 
that  in  circumstances  which  would  have  unnerved 
any  spirit  destitute  of  his  resources.  When  closely 
pursued  by  those  who  thirsted  for  his  blood,  he  said, 
"  I  will  both  lay  me  down  in  peace  and  sleep,  be 
cause  thou  Lord  only  makest  me  to  dwell  in  safety." 
Nor  is  that  upper  chamber  at  Shunem  without  its 
meaning,  where  a  mother  has  laid  the  body  of  her 
only  son  in  death,  and  answers  the  inquiry  of  the 
people  after  her  welfare,  by  saying,  "  It  is  well.'7 

The  illustrations  of  this  character  might  be  mul 
tiplied  a  thousand  fold ;  we  might  summon  up  a 
weeping  group,  and  as  they  passed  before  you,  you 
should  see  orphans  whom  death  had  made  solitary, 
parents  to  whom  the  world  had  become  a  desert, 
because  some  long-watched  and  cherished  flower 
had  withered  and  died ;  widows  in  their  loneliness, 
whom  death  had  reft  of  every  friend  but  God  ;  and 
if  there  are  tears  upon  their  faces,  there  are  smiles 
also,  and  their  testimony  is,  that  they  have  never 
been  deserted  in  their  sorrows ;  they  have  had 
peace,  but  it  has  been  "peace  in  believing,"  their 
best  lessons  of  truth  have  been  learned,  their  clear 
est  views,  their  largest  apprehensions  of  spiritual 
things  have  been  gained  in  seasons  of  trouble ;  and 
never  have  they  had  such  full  proofs  of  the  pre. 
ciousness  of  Christ,  never  such  abounding  consola 
tions,  as  when  one  joy  after  another  has  departed- 


138  PEACE    IN    BELIEVING. 

and  wave  upon  wave  of  sorrow  lias  rolled  over 
them.  While  earth  around  them  has  seemed  a 
desert,  and  while  they  were  toiling  painfully  along, 
the  arid  sands  have  grown  fertile,  and  fresh  things 
and  green  things  have  sprung  up  around  them  ;  and 
where  it  seemed  as  though  nothing  but  the  deadly 
nightshade  could  grow,  the  tree  of  life  has  sprung 
up  with  its  twelve  manner  of  fruits ;  and  never 
Avere  its  clusters  so  rich,  never  did  so  many  hang 
within  their  reach.  Such  is  the  testimony  of  those 
who  have  put  their  trust  in  God ;  and  the  experience 
which  it  sets  before  us,  forms  a  striking  contrast  to 
that  of  others  who  know  nothing  of  the  value  and 
efficiency  of  God's  promises,  upon  whom  in  dark 
ness  no  light  arises,  and  who  in  the  desert  can  find 
no  green  thing  upon  which  the  eye  may  rest.  Nay, 
I  think  I  may  go  farther  than  this,  and  I  imagine 
that  many  a  man's  experience  will  bear  me  out  in 
the  seeming  paradox,  that  the  joys  of  the  spirit 
which  clings  with  an  unwavering  confidence  to  the 
promises  of  God,  are  greatest  in  the  hours  of  the 
greatest  trial,  because  faith  then  is  strongest  in  its 
exercise.  It  is  in  moral  as  in  natural  things  ;  music- 
sounds  softer  and  sweeter  by  night  than  by  day, 
because  then  all  is  still,  and  the  notes  are  brought 
out  more  fully.  It  is  in  the  hour  of  calamity  that 
the  ruptured  heart-strings  yield  the  sweetest  melody, 
when  touched  by  God,  and  the  notes  of  praise 
are  loudest  and  richest,  because  the  promises  of 
truth  which  alone  can  raise  them,  then  seem  most 
precious. 

Now  if  these  things  be  tiue  with  regard  to  what 


PEACE   IN    BELIEVING.  139 

may  be  termed  the  ordinary  scenes  of  life,  because 
trials  and  affliction  are  the  common  lot  of  humanity, 
if  a  man  must  have  that  strength  which  confidence 
in  God  alone  can  give  him,  to  prevent  him  from 
being  overborne  by  common  calamities,  if  he  can 
not  separate  from  faith  in  the  promises,  possess  his 
soul  in  patience  and  peace,  amid  the  every-day 
events  of  life,  he  cannot  certainly  in  the  hour  of 
his  greatest  trial,  when  all  earthly  resources  fail 
him,  and  all  earthly  supports  sink  beneath  him. 

There  is  an  hour  before  us,  my  brethren,  when 
nothing  but  confidence  in  God  will  help  us ;  and 
herein  we  have  an  illustration  of  the  value  and 
glory  of  this  confidence,  that  it  can,  and  does 
sustain  the  spirit  and  give  it  in  this  hour  per 
fect  peace.  We  all  feel  that  death  is  an  evil,  a  ter 
rible  evil ;  and  yet  an  evil  which  we  must  meet. 
Looking  at  it  from  a  distance,  we  may  talk  very 
calmly  about  it,  and  indulge  in  very  ingenious  rea 
sonings  ;  but  when  we  look  at  it  as  near  at  hand,  it 
is  a  very  different  thing  from  what  it  appeared  to  be 
in  the  light  of  our  philosophical  speculations.  We 
never  passed  through  such  a  scene,  or  any  thing 
like  it — a  scene  where  all  that  may  have  cheered 
us  onward  in  the  world  is  withdrawn — a  scene 
where  sense  can  teach  us  nothing — a  scene  where 
reason  can  give  us  no  help,  because  it  has  no  pro 
mises  upon  which  to  build  an  argument,  or  from 
which  to  draw  an  inference — a  scene  where  these 
spirits  must  leave  these  bodies,  and  go  forth,  each 
one  by  itself  in  its  solitariness,  to  tread  a  hitherto 
unexplored  pathway,  and  to  abide  the  searchings 


140  PEACE    IN   BELIEVING. 

of  judgment.  That  scene  is  just  before  us ;  it  will 
not  be  long  before  we  shall  be  passing  through  it. 
Happy  is  the  man,  I  do  but  echo  the  sentiments  of 
every  heart  when  I  say,  "  Happy  is  the  man  who  can 
say  with  calmness  and  composure,  in  view  of  such 
a  scene,  "  The  ]^ord  will  perfect  that  which  con- 
cerneth  me."  Faith,  simple  confidence  in  God 
through  Christ,  can  give  a  man  strength  and  peace 
in  such  a  scene  as  this,  and  nothing  else  can  do  it. 
I  do  not  enter  upon  an  argument  here  ;  I  might,  if 
I  were  so  disposed,  show  how  this  confidence  se 
cures  to  a  man  victory  of  death ;  I  think  I  might 
make  it  perfectly  apparent,  that  the  man  who  be 
lieves  in  the  word  of  this  testimony,  has  in  his  pos 
session,  while  he  looks  upon  Christ  as  revealing 
immortality,  as  taking  away  the  sting  of  death  by 
his  atonement,  as  himself  triumphing  over  the 
grave,  and  giving  to  his  followers  an  assurance  of 
like  victory,  has  in  these  views  all  the  elements  of 
peace,  and  a  peace  as  full  as  his  views  are  clear,  and 
his  confidence  in  them  is  strong.  But  I  appeal  now 
to  facts.  It  cannot  be  denied  then,  as  a  simple 
matter  of  fact,  that  persons  of  every  age  and  every 
rank  in  life,  are  continually  meeting  death  with 
calmness  and  even  joy.  Though  not  insensible  to 
the  terrors  of  death,  they  have  yet  that  which 
enables  them  to  triumph  over  them — nay,  with  a 
full  view  of  what  death  is,  what  it  involves,  and  to 
what  it  leads,  they  can.  approach  it  with  confidence, 
and  even  exult  that  the  hour  of  their  departure  is 
at  hand.  If  you  ask  me  for  an  explanation  of  this 
fact ;  what  it  is  which  upholds  the  dying  Chris- 


PEACE    IT*    BELIEVING.  141 

tian,  what  throws  over  his  wasted  countenance 
such  an  air  of  serenity,  what  prompts  his  expres 
sions  of  peace,  his  breathings  of  hope,  which  seem 
so  illy  to  accord  with  his  circumstances  of  decay 
and  trouble,  I  answer  it  is  some  such  simple  word 
of  promise  as  this,  to  which  his  faith  clings  :  "  Fear 
not,  for  I  am  with  thee  ;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am 
thy  God."  That  is  the  secret  of  the  Christian's 
peace,  and  joy,  and  triumph.  Confidence  in  the 
word  and  promise  of  his  master ;  and  that  confidence 
assures  of  victory,  that  confidence  .brings  heaven 
near  to  him,  so  that  he  is  like  one  who  already  sees 
the  glory,  and  hears  the  minstrelsy  of  the  eternal 
city. 

I  have  never  witnessed  such  scenes  in  any  other 
connection.  I  have  never  heard  of  such  peace  and 
joy  as  resulting  from  any  other  influence.  The 
history  of  the  world  cannot  produce  a  single  case 
of  a  man  dying  in  peace  without  simple  faith  in  the 
promise  of  God.  I  have  heard,  indeed,  and  have 
seen  men  of  the  world,  men  wTho  knew  nothing  of 
Christ  and  him  crucified,  utter  strangers  to  faith  in 
God's  promises,  go  hence  without  betraying  any 
particular  emotion.  The  wicked,  according  to  the 
teachings  of  the  Bible,  may  have  no  bands  in  their 
death,  they  may  sink  into  apathy,  and  some  men 
may  look  upon  their  blighted  energies  and  gross 
insensibility,  as  evidences  of  peace  and  victory.  I 
have  heard,  too,  of  men  who  have  gone  the  length 
of  denying  Christ  and  rejecting  God's  truth,  dying 
in  apparent  unconcern.  Hume  and  Gibbon  could 
even  trifle  on  their  death-beds,  and  in  trying  to 


142  PEACE   IN    BELIEVING. 

act  the  hero  play  the  buffoon;  but  their  very 
trifling  betrayed  a  restlessness  of  spirit,  and  an 
anxiety  to  drown  serious  thought.  These,  however, 
are  exceptions  to  the  general  rule.  Most  generally 
the  last  hours  of  skeptics  have  been  like  those  of 
Paine  and  Voltaire,  hours  of  horror;  while  the 
votaries  of  this  world,  who  have  passed  through 
life  unconcerned  about  spiritual  things,  have  shown 
themselves  the  victims  of  agony  and  remorse,  when 
they  have  approached  the  border  line  of  eternity. 
But  in  the  cases  where  such  has  not  been  the 
fact,  cases  like  those  to  which  we  have  alluded, 
while  there  may  have  been  insensibility,  there  has 
been  no  peace  ;  if  they  have  not  been  aghast  with 
terror,  they  have  been  void  of  any  pleasing  antici 
pations.  There  have  been  none  of  those  beamings 
and  flashings  of  hope  and  joy  which  faith  kindles ; 
there  have  been  no  boundings  of  a  spirit  elastic  with 
immortality,  no  such  thing  as  a  palpable  mastery 
over  death,  no  such  thing  as  a  holy  defiance  of  the 
terrors  of  dissolution,  no  such  thing  as  a  vivid  an 
ticipation  of  happiness,  no  whispered  assurance 
when  the  voice  is  failing  that  all  is  well,  nothing 
of  the  kind ;  oh  !  no,  these  are  the  fruits  of  believ 
ing  on  the  testimony  of  God. 

My  brethren,  there  is  a  reality  in  the  religion  of 
faith,  there  is  a  power  in  it  which  is  no  where  else 
to  be  found.  There  is  a  reality  which  we  must  all 
appreciate,  a  power  which  we  must  all  know  expe 
rimentally,  if  we  would  be  at  peace.  With  this 
conclusion,  sustained  as  it  is  so  fully  by  argument 
and  fact,  I  come  to  my  hearers  to-day ;  I  dedicate 


PEACE   IN   BELIEVING.  143 

the  thoughts  I  have  thrown  out  to  the  tried  and 
wearied  spirit.  There  is  peace  in  believing — there 
is  peace  in  nothing  else.  Could  I  bring  all  who  hear 
me  to-day  to  the  exercise  of  this  simple  confidence 
in  God  through  Christ,  what  wondrous  change 
would  pass  over  their  experience  ;  how  soon  would 
that  troubled  conscience  be  soothed,  how  soon 
would  that  aching  soul  be  relieved  of  its  burden, 
that  vacant  heart  be  filled,  that  weary  spirit  be  at 
rest,  and  those  sighs  for  peace  be  lost  in  the  joy  of 
its  attainment.  Believe  me,  my  brethren,  you 
cannot  do  without  confidence  in  God.  Perhaps  in 
an  hour  of  earthly  joy,  when  all  is  bright  around 
you,  my  appeal  may  not  come  home  with  power 
to  the  spirit.  But  this  sky  will  not  always  be 
bright — there  is  a  storm  cloud  rising.  The  voice  of 
joy  will  not  always  be  heard  in  your  dwelling, 
the  bitter  lamentation  will  be  there.  There 
are  scenes  before  you  which  will  try  the  spirit, 
and  you  must  pass  through  them,  and  you  never 
can  be  sustained  except  by  confidence  in  God. 
Ten  thousand  withered  hopes  and  as  many  broken 
hearts  will  tell  you  so ;  or  if  you  could  pass  un 
harmed  through  all  these  scenes  ;  if  you  could 
weather  all  these  storms  of  life,  there  is  yet 
another ;  it  will  come  when  perhaps  you  are  least 
expecting  it.  It  will  be  a  dark,  a  dreary  and  op 
pressive  night,  when  it  gathers  around  you,  that 
will  try  you  as  you  have  never  been  tried  before ; 
and  then  if  you  have  no  confidence  in  God  to  steady 
and  fix  you,  all  will  be  lost,  and  lost  forever. 
Of  that  coming  tempest  I  would  warn  you.  Every 


144  PEACE   IX    BELIEVING. 

thing  may  now  be  calm,  but  it  is  always  still  be 
fore  the  fiercest  storm.  Your  firmament  may  seem 
clear,  but  yonder  is  the  little  cloud  no  bigger 
than  a  man's  hand,  which  portends  the  tempest. 
As  you  watch,  it  approaches,  it  increases,  it 
gathers  blackness ;  if  it  finds  you,  without  an  in 
terest  in  God's  promises,  it  will  sweep  away  all 
your  confidences,  overthrow  all  your  towers  of 
strength,  and  leave  you  a  ruined  thing  over  which 
others  will  say,  Alas  !  Alas  !  this  is  the  man  who 
made  not  God  his  strength. 

To  Him  who  is  a  hiding  place  from  the  storm 
and  a  shelter  from  the  tempest,  I  would  commend 
my  hearers,  and  to  them  I  would  commend  his 
truth.  "  Come  unto  me  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 
"He  that  believeth  on  him  shall  never  be  con 
founded." 


SUPPORTS  OF  FAITH  AMID  THE  MYSTERIES  OF 
PROVIDENCE. 


"  Thy  righteousness  is  like  the  great  mountains  ;  thy  judgments  are 
a  great  deep.  0  Lord,  thou  preservest  man  and  beast." — PSALM 
xxxvi.  6. 

TIIEEE  is  nothing  very  striking  or  remarkable  in 
this  text  as  it  presents  itself  to  the  eye  of  the 
superficial  reader,  and  yet  a  closer  examination  will 
show  it  to  be  full  of  the  most  interesting  and  con 
solatory  instruction.  It  appears  at  first  sight  to  be 
but  a  simple  statement  of  three  distinct,  familiar,  and 
indisputable  propositions,  without  any  close  con 
nection  with,  or  dependence  upon,  each  other.  The 
first  has  reference  to  God's  righteousness,  that  per 
fection  of  character  which  secures  perfect  equity 
and  justice  in  all  his  procedures, — and  its  compari 
son  with  the  great  mountains  is  designed  to  show 
it  fixed  and  immoveable ;  so  high  that  it  cannot 
well  be  lost  sight  of;  so  deep  in  its  foundations 
that  it  cannot  be  overthrown  or  shaken.  The 
other  has  reference  to  God's  judgments,  his  deal 
ings  and  dispensations  towards  men ;  and  under  the 
emblem  of  "  a  great  deep,"  to  which  he  likens 
them,  it  is  affirmed  of  them  that  they  are  inscrut- 
10 


146  SUPPOETS    OF    FAITH. 

able,  incomprehensible,  not  to  be  fathomed  by  us 
in  our  present  state  of  being.  The  last  refers  to 
God's  general  providential  care,  as  its  evidences  are 
presented  daily  to  our  observation ;  or  more  parti 
cularly  to  those  common  rnqrcies  which  are  shed 
down  constantly  upon  the  creatures  of  his  hand,  as 
intimating  not  more  clearly  the  minuteness  of  God's 
inspection  and  care  than  the  kindness  by  wfeich 
they  are  uniformly  marked.  These  are  the  three 
propositions  before  us.  In  bespeaking  for  them 
your  attention,  we  do  not  feel  ourselves  called  upon 
to  enter  upon  an  extended  demonstration  of  their 
truth.  We  suppose  them  to  be  all  admitted.  No 
one  who  believes  in  the  existence  of  God,  and 
acknowledges  his  government,  will  pretend  to  call 
in  question  the  equity  of  his  administration, — "  He 
is  righteous  in  all  his  ways,  and  holy  in  all  his 
works."  The  supposition  that  he  can  possibly  com 
mit  a  mistake,  that  he  is  liable,  however  remotely, 
to  an  error,  either  of  judgment  or  of  heart,  involves 
an  inconsistency  which  the  intellect  as  well  as  the 
feelings  of  man  at  once  repudiates.  This  is  a  fixed 
principle,  an  axiom  in  all  our  reasonings  upon  the 
divine  dispensations  which  no  rational  man  would 
think  of  questioning  a  moment ;  and  under  the  full 
conviction  of  this  truth  it  is  that  we  so  promptly 
resolve  all  the  apparent  inconsistencies  or  inequali 
ties  of  the  divine  administration,  not  into  any  want 
of  equity  or  justice  upon  the  part  of  him  who  sits 
upon  the  throne,  but  to  our  own  ignorance  or  short 
sightedness,  which  disqualifies  us  from  taking  those 
large  and  comprehensive  views  necessary  to  a 


SFPPOKTS    OF    FAITH.  147 

clear  perception  of  his  dealings  in  their  varied  and 
often  complicated  relations. 

Equally  uncalled  for  is  an  argument  to  demon 
strate  the  mystery  of  God's  dispensations.  No  one 
can  study  or  even  slightly  observe  the  divine  deal 
ings,  whether  in  reference  to  individuals  or  com 
munities,  without  perceiving  much,  the  fitness  and 
propriety  of  which  are  matters  of  faith,  not  of  de 
monstration,  calling  not  upon  ingenuity  to  specu 
late,  but  upon  reason  to  submit.  God's  "  judg 
ments  are  a  great  deep,"  which  we  have  no  line  to 
fathom,  and  beneath  the  surface  of  which,  if  we 
dive,  we  are  completely  lost.  While  at  the  same 
time  we  cannot  cast  our  eye  abroad  in  any  direc 
tion  without  observing  traces  of  perpetually  exer 
cised  skill  and  unceasing  goodness ;  the  universality 
of  God's  providential  care  can  no  more  be  ques 
tioned  that  the  righteousness  of  his  government  or 
the  mystery  of  his  proceedings.  It  is  as  true  that 
he  "  preserveth  man  and  beast,"  as  it  is  that  his 
"  righteousness  is  like  the  great  mountains,"  or  that 
his  "  judgments  are  a  great  deep."  We  have,  then, 
on  this  occasion,  nothing  to  do  with  argument  going 
to  demonstrate  the  correctness  of  either  of  these 
propositions  ;  we  assume  them  as  granted,  and  pro 
ceed  therefore  to  the  main  purpose  of  our  discourse, 
which  is  to  show  the  connection  between  them,  and 
ascertain  what,  if  any,  great  practical  lessons  may 
be  learned  from  the  manner  in  which  they  are 
combined  by  the  inspired  writer. 

I.  In  order  to  bring  out  distinctly  the  idea  I 
have  in  my  mind,  as  suggested  by  the  language  of 


148  STJPPOETS   OF   FAITH. 

the  text,  I  begin  with  the  proposition  relating  to 
the  unsearchable  nature  of  the  divine  dispensations, 
the  judgments  of  God,  which  the  Psalmist  compares 
to  "  a  great  deep."     It  is  undoubtedly  a  fact  that 
the  grounds  of  God's  procedures,  and  the  methods 
of  his  action,  are  very  often  beyond  our  ability  to 
discover  and  trace  them.     There  is  not  one  of  us, 
perhaps,  who  has  not  been  greatly  perplexed  by 
events  in  his  own  private  history,  events   which 
have   disarranged  all  his  plans,   and   it    may  be 
blighted   his   most  dearly  and   longest   cherished 
hopes,  and  been  baffled  in  his  best  efforts  to  explain 
them  or  unravel  their  intricacy.     The  surprise  at 
these  developments  of  Divine  Providence  is  as  un 
warranted  as  is  our  dissatisfaction  in  view  of  them 
unreasonable ;  for,  as  we  apprehend,  there  is  nothing 
but  what  we  ought  to  expect ;  nothing  but  what  is 
unavoidable  in  the  incomprehensibility  of  the  di 
vine  judgments.     If  among  ourselves  the  dealings 
of  wise  men,  proceeding  from  a  high  degree  of  sa 
gacity,  appear  unaccountable,  because  founded  on 
maxims,  or  contemplating  ends  not  understood  or 
appreciated  by  the    great  mass  of   their  fellows, 
it  surely  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  God,  who 
in  his  wisdom  is  as  far  above  us  as  the  heavens  are 
above  the  earth,  should  be  inexplicable  in  his  act 
ings,  often  doing  the  very  opposite   to  what  in  the 
same  circumstances  we  should  have  done,  and  pro 
ceeding  in  a  way  to  us  apparently  least  likely  to 
produce  the  desired  end. 

But  if  the  inscrutableness  of  Providence  did  not 
result  necessarily  from  God's  superior  wisdom,  still 


SUPPORTS    OF   FAITH.  149 

there  would  be  sufficient  reasons  to  justify  its  pro 
priety.  It  would  be  quite  possible,  we  admit,  for 
God  so  to  arrange  every  thing  that  his  judgments 
should  not  be  a  great  deep,  that  his  motives  and 
ends  of  action  should  always  appear  upon  the  sur 
face,  palpable  and  obvious  to  every  one ;  and  yet 
there  would  be  sufficient  room  to  question  the  wis 
dom  of  such  an  arrangement,  as  there  would  be 
little  or  nothing  to  conciliate  our  reverence,  or  com 
pel  our  submission.  As  things  now  are  managed, 
while — 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 
His  wonders  to  perform," 

we  are  constantly  reminded  by  the  fruitless- 
ness  of  efforts  to  fathom  the  divine  judgments, 
of  our  limited  knowledge,  and  feeble  penetration. 
Let  Providence  be  divested  of  all  its  intricacies, 
so  that  there  should  be  to  us  no  obscurities, 
and  our  sense  of  the  distance  between  the  finite 
and  the  infinite  would  be  very  much  diminished ; 
we  would  feel  that  God  was  brought  down  to 
the  level  of  our  capacities,  or  what,  practically, 
would  be  very  much  the  same  thing,  AYC  would 
feel  ourselves  exalted  to  his  level.  It  is,  we  ima 
gine,  quite  necessary,  in  order  to  inspire  humi 
lity,  awe,  reverence,  and  discipline  us  to  faith,  that 
God  in  his  ordinary  operations  should  be  hidden 
from  us  ;  that  he  should  discover  himself  sufficiently 
to  prove  to  us  that  he  is  at  work,  yet  not  so  as 
admit  us  to  his  counsels,  nor  allow  us  to  trace  the 
steps  of  his  progress.  Submission  to  God  is  a  vir 
tue,  as  well  as  reverence ;  and  if  always  able  to  dis 
cern  the  reasons  of  the  divine  dealings,  to  determine 


150  SUPPOETS    OF   FAITH. 

the  end  proposed,  and  the  suitableness  of  the 
means  used  for  its  accomplishment,  we  would 
think  God  little  wiser  than  one  of  ourselves,  and 
find  nothing  any  where  to  fill  us  with  reverence. 
So  in  the  hour  of  trial  and  sorrow  there  would  be 
nothing  to  exercise  patience,  or  teach  us  submission, 
if  we  saw  distinctly  the  process  by  which  God 
was  accomplishing  his  purpose,  or  the  benefit  it 
was  designed  to  secure. 

God  is  mysterious.  It  is  well,  we  see  it,  that  he 
should  be  so ;  far  more  mysterious  in  the  works  of 
providence  than  of  nature ;  and  they  who  confess 
his  authorship  and  superintendence  of  the  objects 
around  them,  must  admit  the  propriety  of  this 
characteristic  of  his  movements,  even  though  they 
should  sometimes  be  staggered  when  reflecting  on 
the  course  of  human  things,  and  be  tempted  to 
doubt  whether  the  very  being  whom  they  recog 
nize  as  presiding  over  the  mechanism  of  the  mate 
rial  universe,  acting  with  such  unfailing  precision 
and  uniformity,  does,  indeed,  sit  perpetually  at  the 
helm  of  human  affairs.  Though  we  may  attempt, 
as  we  look  over  God's  dealings,  and  observe  the 
jostling  and  confusion  which  seem  well  nigh  uni 
versal,  and  mark  the  unexpected  turn  which  things 
often  take,  to  assign  a  reason  for  one  appointment 
and  determine  the  possible  use  of  another,  yet  we 
find  it  very  hard  to  assure  ourselves  that  all  is  for 
the  best;  that  there  is  not  a  spring  in  motion  which 
God  does  not  regulate,  nor  a  force  in  action  which 
he  does  not  control ;  still  all  this  is  precisely  what 
we  ought  to  expect.  God's  wisdom  and  knowledge, 


SUPPOETS    OF   FAITH.  151 

so  far  surpassing  our  own,  teach  us  that  his  deal 
ings  must  be  founded  on  principles  which  we  can 
not  discover,  and  influenced  and  guided  by  motives 
and  maxims  which  we  cannot  understand ;  and, 
therefore,  must  be  to  us,  who  are  but  children  in 
understanding,  little  else  than  a  mass  of  mysteries. 
"Working  as  he  is  with  a  view  to  various  and  dis 
tant  events,  involving,  perhaps,  the  interests  of  a 
kingdom  in  those  of  an  individual,  having  respect 
to  a  single  family  in  the  changes  of  an  empire,  how 
can  he  be  otherwise  than  unsearchable  in  his  Pro 
vidence  to  us,  who  can  apprehend  nothing  but  the 
nearest  design,  our  supposed  knowledge  of  which 
may  after  all  be  but  little  more  than  conjecture ; 
and  when  we  add  to  this  that  "it  is  the  glory  of 
God  to  conceal  a  thing,"  that  it  is  the  very  dark 
ness  in  which  he  dwells  which  secures  our  reve 
rence,  and  compels  our  submission;  not  with  a 
feeling  of  surprise  and  discontent,  but  of  admira 
tion  and  praise,  nay,  with  a  confession  of  the  great 
ness,  the  majesty,  the  wisdom,  the  goodness  of  the 
Creator,  should  we  remember  that  his  "judgments 
are  a  great  deep." 

II.  The  effect,  however,  upon  us  of  the  mysteries 
of  the  divine  procedures,  will  be  dependent  almost 
entirely  upon  the  position  from  which  we  view 
them,  and  the  light  in  which  we  look  at  them. 
The  mariner  out  upon  the  ocean  at  midnight  is 
bewildered  if  he  has  no  compass  by  which  to  steer, 
or  if  he  loses  sight  of  the  fixed  star  by  which  he 
may  direct  his  course.  To  plunge  into  the  midst 
of  a  labyrinth,  without  any  clew  to  its  intricacies? 


152  SUPPOETS    OF   FAITH. 

is  to  perplex,  and  dishearten,  and  throw  one's  self 
into  deep  despondency  ;  and  so  it  will  unnerve  and 
prostrate  any  man  to  find  himself  in  the  midst  of 
God's  judgments  or  mysterious  dealings  without 
any  previous  preparation  to  meet  them,  or  any 
light  to  throw  upon  their  darkness. 

It  is  not  therefore  without  reason,  that  the  Psalm 
ist  says,  "Thy  righteousness  is  like  the  great 
mountains,"  before  he  speaks  of  the  great  deep  of 
God's  judgments ;  for  it  is  only  upon  the  ground 
which  his  righteousness  puts  under  us,  that  we  can 
look  calmly  upon  his  judgments  ;  only  the  intelli 
gent  and  firm  conviction  of  that  righteousness 
which  can  balance  and  steady  the  mind  amid  his 
mysteries.  As  by  the  righteousness  of  God,  already 
explained,  we  mean  that  perfection  by  which  He  is 
holy  and  just  in  himself,  and  observes  the  strictest 
rules  of  equity  in  his  dealings  with  his  creatures  ; 
to  be  convinced  of  his  righteousness  is  to  be  satisfied 
that,  whatever  may  be  appearances,  God  is  guided 
in  his  actions  by  the  most  unimpeachable  princi 
ples,  and  has  only  to  make  known  his  reasons,  to 
secure  the  approval  of  all  his  intelligent  creatures. 
We  cannot  be  satisfied  of  God's  righteousness,  with 
out  being  thoroughly  persuaded  that  even  when 
his  dealings  are  the  darkest,  they  need  only  to 
be  seen  in  the  liovht  of  his  wisdom  to  commend 

o 

themselves  as  the  best  that  could  be  devised  ;  and 
the  reason  why  the  men  who  walk  with  God,  and 
study  well  his  character,  are  so  little  perplexed 
by  the  intricacies  of  his  Providence,  and  so  little 
disheartened  by  what  is  obscure,  is,  that  they  ha  ve 


SUPPORTS    OF   FAITIT.  153 

settled  it  in  their  rninds  that  God  is  righteous  in 
all  his  ways  ;  and  holding  fast  this  great  truth  in 
every  hour  of  difficulty,  and  doubt,  and  trial,  they 
are  as  thoroughly  satisfied  that  what  is  unsearcha 
ble  is  right,  as  though  it  were  all  laid  open,  and 
they  had  the  evidence  of  sense  or  reason  for  its 
goodness.  Thus  it  was  that  the  Psalmist  fortified 
himself  against  the  inscrutableness  of  the  divine 
judgments,  by  assuring  himself  of  the  divine  right 
eousness  ;  and  herein  he  teaches  us  a  lesson  we  are 
very  apt  to  overlook,  but  which  our  comfort  re 
quires  us  perfectly  to  learn.  We  cannot  always 
walk  in  the  light ;  sometimes  God  will  throw  dark 
ness  about  us  ;  prosperity  cannot  be  our  unfailing 
allotment ;  our  life  is  a  chequered  scene,  the  bright 
spots  of  which  are  intermingled  with  shade.  If 
we  have  our  hours  of  ease,  we  must  have  hours  of 
difficulty  ;  if  we  have  comforts,  we  must  have  trials 
likewise.  At  times  we  may  feel  that  we  are  tread 
ing  upon  the  solid  earth,  and  again  we  are  launched 
out  upon  the  ocean  of  God's  judgments.  And 
nothing  will  give  us  light  in  darkness,  or  strength 
in  weakness,  or  relief  in  perplexity  ;  nothing  will 
equip  us  for  the  hour  of  difficulty  or  trial  but  the 
conviction,  intelligent  and  thorough,  of  this  simple 
truth,  God's  "  righteousness  is  like  the  great 
mountains."  Fixed  upon  this  ground,  we  should 
always  be  firm,  calm,  collected,  never  afraid  of 
evil  tidings,  never  dismayed  by  the  divine  dealings, 
because  we  would  be  stable,  trusting  in  God. 

One  great  practical  mistake  upon  this  subject, 
my  brethren,  is,  that  we  wait  till  we  are  enveloped 


154  SUPPOETS   OF   FAITH. 

in  darkness  before  we  acquaint  ourselves  with  God ; 
and  then  when  the  hour  of  difficulty  conies,  we  have 
to  search  for  relief,  instead  of  being  provided 
beforehand ;  and  when  the  storm  bursts  upon 
us,  we  have  to  look  round  for  shelter,  when  the 
way  into  God's  pavilion  should  have  been  perfectly 
familiar.  We  are  driven  out  into  the  deep  of 
God's  judgments,  with  but  very  dim  apprehensions 
of  his  righteousness ;  and4then  without  any  thing  to 
which  we  may  cling,  we  cry  out  as  though  God 
had  forgotten  to  be  gracious.  Had  we  certified  our 
selves  beforehand  that  God  never  can  mean  but 
what  is  right,  that  he  never  can  swerve  or  be 
diverted  from  his  purpose,  we  could  not  fail,  when 
we  found  ourselves  upon  the  dark  waters,  to  see 
the  star  which  is  to  teach  us  how  to  steer. 

In  the  imagery  of  the  Psalmist  which  has  sug 
gested  these  thoughts,  there  is  beauty  as  well  as 
truth.  We  have  here  a  combination  of  the  moun 
tains  and  the  depths,  and  there  should  be  no  diffi 
culty  in  sketching  upon  canvass,  as  there  is  none 
in  the  conception  of  a  picture  which  would  dis 
tinctly  symbolize  the  writer's  idea.  Here  we  have 
before  us  the  deep  of  God's  judgments,  waters  un 
fathomable  by  any  human  line ;  and  here  we  have 
the  mountains,  whose  foundations  are  washed  by 
these  unfathomable  waters  ;  they  seem  to  be  rising 
out  of  the  waters,  and  girding  them  round 
upon  every  side.  We  know  from  the  parts  of  the 
mountains  which  are  visible,  that  there  are  lower 
parts  concealed  from  us  by  the  waters,  and  are  just 
as  confident  that  the  lower  parts  form  the  basin 


SUPPORTS    OF   FAITH.  155 

out  of  which  the  waters  flow  ;  and  thus,  when  we 
see  the  mountains  all  around  us,  we  may  be  sure 
that  the  foundations  beneath  the  waters  are  of  the 
same  materials  with  the  summits  above,  which, 
though  sometimes  hidden  in  the  mists,  often  glow 
in  the  sunlight.  Such  seems  to  be  the  conception 
of  the  Psalmist.  It  is  truthful,  and  beautiful,  and 
impressive.  God's  judgments  are  the  deep  which 
we  cannot  explore,  but  from  this  deep  rise  moun 
tains,  and  these  mountains  are  the  righteousness  of 
God  ;  as  they  gird  around  the  waters,  so  does  the 
righteousness  of  God  embrace  all  his  dealings.  As 
we  doubt  not,  that  their  foundations  are  the  same 
with  their  summits,  so  we  cannot  doubt  that  the 
righteousness  of  God  is  the  same  in  what  is  dark 
as  in  what  is  clear.  Nay,  more  than  this,  as  the 
surface  of  the  water  often  mirrors  the  tops  of  the 
surrounding  mountains,  so  not  infrequently  can  an 
attentive  eye  observe  the  image  of  God's  righteous 
ness  upon  the  very  front  of  his  dispensations. 

What  then  are  we  to  do  when  upon  this  mysterious 
deep,  but  to  look  at  the  mountains  which  rise  upon 
every  side,  and  remember  that  under  the  waters, 
unseen  by  us,  are  their  foundations  ?  Though  we 
cannot  take  the  soundings  of  the  mighty  abyss, 
yet  we  should  feel  safe  if  we  kept  in  mind  the 
righteousness  of  God.  We  should  never  be  at  a 
loss  or  bewildered,  if  faith  in  the  divine  character 
were  always  in  lively  exercise  ;  and  it  might  be  al 
ways  kept  in  exercise,  for  there  is  always  some 
thing  upon  which  it  may  fasten  and  act.  Driven 
and  tossed  as  we  may  be,  there  is  always  some 


156  SUPPORTS    OF   FAITH. 

peak  of  these  everlasting  hills  discernible,  some 
eminence  of  the  mountains  to  serve  as  a  guide  and 
assure  us  of  our  safety. 

It  is  because  practically  we  regard  the  righteous 
ness  of  God  as  sand,  which  may  be  displayed  or 
encroached  upon  by  the  waters,  and  not  as  moun 
tains,  which  cannot  be  removed,  that  we  are  dis 
turbed  when  thrown  upon  the  sea  of  God's  judg 
ments.  Only  let  us  give  the  character  of  "  moun 
tains"  to  the  righteousness ;  look  upon  it  as  un 
changeable  and  immoveable,  as  girding  round  the 
whole  economy  of  divine  Providence,  and  it  could 
hardly  happen  that  we  should  be  overwhelmed  by 
the  divine  dealings,  however  unable  we  should  be 
to  fathom  them.  Thus  fortified  by  God's  righteous 
ness,  we  might  turn  our  attention  to  God's  judg 
ments,  and  then  it  would  be  as  though  we  were 
standing  upon  earth's  mountaics,  and  throwing  our 
gaze  over  the  ocean;  the  heavings  of  the  waves, 
would  cause  us  no  solicitude,  as  we  should  feel 
certain  of  the  solidity  of  that  on  which  we  stood, 
and  have  no  fears  that  the  waters,  however  agi 
tated,  would  pass  the  boundaries  appointed  by  the 
God  of  nature.  So  when  we  stand  upon  the  right 
eousness  of  God,  knowing  it  to  be  immoveable  as  a 
rock  of  adamant,  what  to  us  are  the  tossings  and 
fluctuations  of  human  affairs  ?  There  can  be  no 
overleaping  the  boundaries  which  the  God  of  pro 
vidence  has  appointed. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  divine  righteousness  can  give 
us  light  in  the  midst  of  darkness,  relief  in  the 
midst  of  perplexity,  and  fixedness  in  the  midst  of 


SUPPOKTS    OF    FAITH.  15T 

the  changes  which  are  taking  place  around  us ;  thus 
it  is  that  the  consideration  of  what  God  is  will  al 
ways  sustain  us  in  view  of  what  God  does.  He  is 
"  righteous  in  all  his  ways."  He  cannot  fail  to  be 
righteous,  righteous  equally  whether  his  doings  are 
known  or  unknown,  whether  his  ways  are  in  the 
sunshine  or  the  storm.  His  righteousness  is  not 
dependent  upon  our  perception  of  it ;  it  is  a  neces 
sary  property  of  his  nature.  He  might  as  well 
cease  to  exist  as  cease  to  act  upon  the  best  prin 
ciples,  in  the  best  mode  and  to  the  best  end  ;  and 
then  what  have  we  to  do  with  murmuring  at  his 
dealings,  as  though  their  propriety  could  be  sus 
pected.  What  if  we  cannot  fathom  them  ?  what  if 
we  cannot  comprehend  them  ?  If  we  could,  we 
would  be  no  more  sure  of  their  righteousness  than 
we  ought  to  be  now,  on  the  testimony  of  his  charac 
ter.  If  we  look  on  the  mere  dispensation,  it  seems 
a  vast  profound  in  which  the  mind  may  sink ;  but 
if  we  look  at  him  whose  dispensation  it  is,  we  might 
at  once  find  a  resting-place  for  our  spirits.  Be  it 
so  that  his  dealings  are  inexplicable ;  it  is  not  ours 
to  penetrate  those  dealings,  but  as  they  bear  us 
along  on  their  mighty  deep,  to  keep  looking,  as  the 
Psalmist  elsewhere  says,  "  to  the  hills  whence 
cometh  our  help."  There  is  not  a  billow  on  this 
deep  from  which  we  may  not  see  land  ;  though  if 
we  dive  beneath  the  surface  we  shall  find  only 
darkness,  and  be  presently  overwhelmed.  Never 
should  we  study  God's  dealings  apart  from  God's 
attributes,  but  prepare  ourselves  to  study  his  deal 
ings  by  studying  his  character ;  for  if  we  once 


158  SUPPOETS    OF   FAITTI. 

settle  it  firmly  in  the  mind  "  that  his  righteousness 
is  like  the  great  mountains,"  it  will  never  be  in 
fear,  never  in  perplexity,  much  less  will  it  be  in 
fretfulness  and  impatience,  that  we  shall  say,  "  Thy 
judgments  are  a  great  deep." 

III.  The  connection  between  the  first  and  the 
second  propositions  of  our  text  being  thus  estab 
lished,  we  turn  our  attention  for  a  moment  to  the 
last,  that  we  may  ascertain,  if  possible,  its  relation 
to  those  which  preceded  it.  The  transition,  at 
first  sight,  we  must  admit,  seems  to  be  very  abrupt ; 
for  what  has  the  mysteriousness  of  God's  dealings 
to  do  with  his  providential  care  ?  and  yet  we 
can  easily  understand,  that  if  to  muse  on  the 
righteousness  of  God  be  the  best  preparation 
for  the  consideration  of  God's  judgments,  the 
doubts  and  difficulties  which  this  consideration 
may  nevertheless  excite,  may  be  best  dealt  with 
by  pondering  the  every  day  mercies  which  are 
showered  upon  the  world.  I  can  easily  imagine 
the  state  of  mind  which  the  introduction  of  this 
idea,  in  this  precise  connection,  is  calculated,  if  not 
designed,  to  meet.  I  may  have  prepared  myself 
for  surveying  what  is  inexplicable  in  God's  dealings, 
by  fortifying  my  belief  in  God's  righteousness,  and 
yet  while  my  eyes  are  upon  the  great  deep,  it  will 
oftentimes  be  hard  to  keep  faith  in  full  exercise.  I 
shall  be  very  apt  to  forget,  while  gazing  upon  the 
dark,  unfathomable  expanse,  the  truths  of  which 
I  thought  I  had  certified  myself.  I  shall  feel 
as  though  I  needed  some  distinct,  visible  evidence 
of  the  goodness  of  God,  which  all  this  darkness 


STJPPOKTS    OP   FAITH.  159 

and  confusion  seems  to  contradict ;  and  here  I  re 
member  that  "  God  preserveth  man  and  beast."  I 
summon  to  my  aid,  in  this  emergency,  the  young 
and  the  old  ;  the  men  of  every  age  and  every  clime  ; 
I  summon  every  beast  of  the  field  and  every  fowl 
of  the  air ;  I  make  the  sea  give  up  its  multitudes  ;  I 
make  every  flower,  every  leaf,  every  water  drop, 
pour  forth  its  insect  population,  and  they  all  pass 
in  review  before  me.  I  ask  myself  who  feeds  this 
innumerable  throng  ?  Who  erects  store-houses  and 
keeps  them  supplied  for  all  these  tenants  of  earth, 
sea,  and  air  ?  How  happens  it  that  morning  after 
morning  men  go  about  their  varied  employments, 
that  the  forests  echo  with  the  warbling  of  birds, 
that  thousands  of  creatures  are  active  on  every  hill 
and  in  every  valley,**and  yet  that  out  of  these 
countless  multitudes  of  living  beings,  there  is  not 
the  solitary  one  for  whom  abundant  provision  is 
not  made  in  the  arrangements  of  nature  ?  Is  this 
animation  which  is  perpetually  kept  up  in  the 
universe,  and  this  sustenance  which  is  so  liberally 
provided  for  its  entire  population,  to  be  referred 
to  the  working  of  certain  laws  and  properties,  irre 
spective  of  the  immediate  agency  of  an  ever 
present,  ever  actuating  Divinity  ?  Oh !  this  is 
an  idolatry  of  second  causes,  little  better  than 
a  denial  of  the  First  Cause — this  is  substitut 
ing  that  ideal,  fabled  thing,  called  Nature,  for 
the  God  of  nature — this  is  making  the  laws 

O 

and  processes  by  and  through  which  God  ope 
rates,  omnipotent,  intelligent,  omnipresent  agents. 
No  !  no  !  The  hand  that  made,  sustains  ;  the  breath 


160  SUPPOETS    OF   FAITH. 

that  animated,  continues  in  existence — "  The  Lord 
preserveth  man  and  "beast."  He  gave  them  being 
at  first,  and  he  is  the  fountain  of  their  being  at 
every  subsequent  moment ;  and  there  is  not  in  this 
wide  creation  the  single  living  thing  which  is  not 
perpetually  drawing  upon  God ;  so  literally  depen 
dent  upon  his  care  and  bounty,  that  an  instant's 
suspension  of  his  providential  arrangements  would 
suffice  to  quench  the  vital  principle.  Never  let  us 
for  a  moment  indulge  the  atheistic  thought,  that 
though  the  universe  could  not  have  been  made 
without  God,  it  can  nevertheless  go  on  without 
God.  Its  wheels  are  not  wheels,  which  once  set  in 
motion,  may  continue  to  revolve  without  fresh  in 
terference  of  the  original  agency.  Its  springs  are 
not  springs,  which  once  touched,  will  vibrate  for 
ever,  without  the  hand  of  the  contriver  and  archi 
tect.  Its  seeds  are  not  seeds,  which,  when  once 
sown,  need  no  influence  from  above  to  secure  their 
perpetual  springing.  Every  planet,  as  it  inarches, 
is  impelled  by  God  ;  every  star  as  it  revolves,  is 
turned  by  God  ;  every  flower  as  it  opens,  is  un 
folded  by  God ;  every  blade  of  grass,  as  it  springs,  is 
reared  by  God.  And  if  in  place  of  suffering  thought 
to  wander  along  the  spreadings  of  the  universe, — 
though  it  could  no  where  reach  the  spot  where 
God  is  not  busy,  nor  find  the  creature  of  which  he 
is  not  the  life, — if  in  place  of  this  you  tie  it  down  to 
the  inhabitants  of  this  lower  creation,  what  a  pic 
ture  is  opened  before  us  by  the  simple  fact,  that  in 
every  department  God  is  momentarily  engaged  in 
ministering  to  the  beings  whom  he  has  called  into 


SUPPOETS    OF   FAITH.  161 

existence  ;  and  from  the  king  on  his  throne  to  the 
beggar  in  his  hovel ;  from  the  grey-headed  veteran 
to  the  infant  of  a  day  ;  from  the  lordly  lion  to  the 
most  insignificant  reptile ;  from  the  stately  eagle  to 
the  animalcule,  which  we  know  only  from  the  mi 
croscope,  there  is  not  to  be  found  the  solitary  in 
stance  of  a  being  overlooked  by  God — of  life 
sustained  independently  of  God,  or  which  could 
last  one  second  without  his  inspiration.  And 
ought  not  this  picture,  upon  which  we  may  gaze 
daily  and  hourly,  to  have  its  effect  upon  the  mind 
when  we  turn  to  the  great  deep  of  God's  judg 
ments,  to  refresh  us  in  the  midst  of  dark  and  intri 
cate  dispensations,  and  relieve  us  of  those  doubts 
which  are  often  raised  in  view  of  the  apparent  want 
of  goodness  in  the  government  of  God  ?  Why,  my 
brethren,  there  is  not  a  morsel  of  food  which  we 
eat,  nor  a  drop  which  we  drink,  there  is  not  a  bird 
which  cheers  us  by  its  wild  music,  there  is  not  an 
insect  which  we  see  sporting  in  the  sunbeam,  which 
does  not  rebuke  us  when  we  mistrust  God  because 
sometimes  he  is  "  unsearchable  in  his  ways."  Can 
it  be  that  he  is  unmindful  of  the  world,  that  he  is 
not  studying  in  all  his  appointments  and  arrange 
ments  the  good  of  his  creatures,  when  every  where 
he  is  showing  himself  attentive  to  the  comforts  and 
the  wants  of  the  meanest  living  thing  ;  and  while 
he  is  ordering  the  course  of  nature,  and  marshalling 
the  ranks  of  cherubim  and  seraphim,  he  is  yet  bend 
ing  down  from  his  throne  and  applying  as  close  a 
guardianship  to  the  ephemera  which  floats  in  the 
breeze  as  though  it  were  the  only  animated  creature, 
11 


162  SUPPORTS  or  FAITI*. 

or  the  only  one  requiring  his  providential  care? 
This  we  apprehend  to  be  the  idea  of  the  Psalmist ; 
and  there  is  thus  seen  to  be  a  strong  and  beautiful, 
though  it  be  only  an  implied  reasoning,  in  our  text ; 
and  I  put  all  its  propositions  together,  and  show 
their  mutual  dependence  upon,  and  relation  to  each 
other,  thus: 

We  muse  in  the  first  place  on  the  righteousness 
of  God.  He  would  not  be  God  if  he  were  not 
"  righteous  in  all  his  ways  and  holy  in  all  his 
works ;"  and,  therefore,  we  may  be  perfectly  confi 
dent  of  this,  that  whatsoever  he  does  is  the  best  that 
could  be  done,  whether  we  do  or  do  not  perceive 
its  excellence.  Having  gained  this  point ;  being 
fairly  fixed  in  this  conviction,  that  "  his  righteous 
ness  is  like  the  great  mountains,"  we  turn  to  look  at 
his  judgments  ;  and  what  an  abyss  of  dark  waters 
is  here !  How  unsearchable,  how  unfathomable 
is  God  in  many  of  his  ways ;  and  yet  if  satis 
fied  of  his  righteousness,  why  should  we  be  stag 
gered  by  his  judgments  ?  There  is  no  method 
of  getting  away  from  this  argument  as  an  argu 
ment,  and  yet  the  mind  does  not  always  rest  per 
fectly  satisfied  with  it,  and  that  because,  while  it  is 
adapted  to  convince  the  intellect,  it  does  not  address 
itself  forcibly  to  the  feelings.  "Well,  then,  let  us 
pass  from  what  is  dark  to  what  is  clear  in  God's 
dealings,  and  see  if  we  cannot  find  something  which 
may  bring  the  sensibilities  to  harmonize  with  the 
convictions  of  the  judgment.  "  He  is  about  our 
path,  and  about  our  bed  continually ;"  "  The  eyes  of 
all  wait  upon  him  ;"  "  He  openeth  his  hand  and 


SUPPORTS    OF   FAITH.  163 

satisfieth  the  desire  of  every  living  thing."  Is 
God,  wlio  is  thus  displaying  himself  to  us,  hourly 
and  momentarily,  a  God  of  whom  we  may  be  suspi 
cious  ?  Do  we  honour  the  sensibilities  of  our 
nature  which  apprehend  his  goodness,  any  more 
than  our  judgments,  which  are  convinced  of  his 
righteousness,  when  at  any  time,  or  in  any  circum 
stances,  we  mistrust  him?  If  when  brought  to 
see  that  God's  "righteousness  is  like  the  great 
mountains,"  we  still  have  our  fears,  when  looking 
upon  the  great  deep  of  his  judgments,  oh,  surely, 
BS  we  cast  our  eyes  around  us,  and  find  in  every 
direction  the  evidence  of  sense  to  this  fact,  that 
4'  God  preserveth  man  and  beast,"  there  is  enough 
to  quiet  every  alarm  and  hush  every  remaining 
suspicion. 

In  the  expository  remarks  we  have  thus  been 
enabled  to  present  to  you,  this  morning,  we  have, 
as  we  imagine,  given  you  the  spirit  of  our  text, 
and  set  before  you  the  lessons  it  may  be  used  to 
inculcate.  I  do  not  know  how  I  can  leave  my  sub 
ject  so  that  it  shall  make  its  most  salutary  im 
pression,  better  than  by  winding  up  my  remarks 
with  a  single  thought  which  the  subject  seems  to 
suggest — viz. :  the  importance  of  thinking  much  on 
our  common  mercies,  in  order  to  prepare  our 
selves  for  uncommon  emergencies.  My  breth 
ren,  we  live  in  eventful  times.  In  various  ways 
God  is  moving  through  the  world,  accomplish 
ing  his  designs.  His  path  is  a  path  of  mys 
tery,  and  his  footsteps  are  not  known.  Like 
the  wind  which  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  we 


164  SUPPOET8   OF   FAITH. 

trace  him  only  by  his  effects.  His  judgments  are 
a  great  deep.  Now  we  see  him.  in  the  upheavings 
of  empires,  and  the  convulsions  of  nations ;  again 
we  find  him  in  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  dark 
ness,  and  the  destruction  which  wasteth  at  noon 
day  ;  what  the  end  is  to  be  we  cannot  tell ;  how 
we  are  to  be  affected  socially  or  personally  we 
know  not.  We  may  be,  as  individuals,  the  subjects 
of  very  mysterious  dispensations  ;  we  may  be  tried, 
perhaps  some  are  now  tried,  tried  severely ;  and 
we  must  have  something  upon  which  to  stay  our 
minds.  The  great  difficulty,  when  the  trial  does 
come,  is  to  maintain  a  sense  of  God's  loving-kind 
ness.  He  who  is  strong  in  the  conviction  that 
"  God  is  love,"  can  hardly  fail  to  be  patient,  if  he 
is  not  joyful  in  tribulation ;  and  the  reason,  I  ap 
prehend,  why  we  are  not  all  of  us  strong  in  this 
conviction  is  that  we  overlook  the  incessant,  mo 
mentary  evidences  of  divine  love,  and  think  only  of 
those  which  are  vouchsafed  in  some  great  crisis  or 
emergency.  And  yet  our  common  mercies  are  the 
best ;  we  should  feel  their  value  if  they  were  more 
rare.  God  demonstrates  his  kindness  more  by  keep 
ing  us  in  health  than  by  raising  us  from  a  perilous 
sickness;  more  by  warding  off  from  us  danger 
than  by  shielding  and  delivering  us  when  it  comes. 
And,  oh !  if  we  accustomed  ourselves  to  think  of 
our  common  mercies,  to  study  God  as  an  affec 
tionate  parent  in  his  every-day  dealings,  if  we 
thought  of  his  love  as  sustaining  us  at  night,  and 
awakening  us  in  the  morning,  and  guarding  us 
during  the  day  time  ;  if  we  saw  his  love  in  every 


SUPPOKTS    OF   FAITH.  165 

thing ;  felt  it  in  the  beating  of  the  pulse,  heard  it 
in  the  voices  of  friendship  around  us,  it  could 
hardly  be  that  we  should  think  it  withdrawn  from 
us  the  moment  we  were  overtaken  by  any  sorrow. 
We  should  have  this  truth  then  graven  upon  our 
minds  ;  our  common  mercies  are  the  best  prepara 
tions  for  trials.  "We  may  have  to  go  down  into  the 
deep,  my  brethren,  the  great  deep  of  God's  judg 
ments  ;  and  our  faith  may  be  shaken,  because  we 
lose  sight  of  the  mountains  of  God's  righteousness 
which  are  round  about  us,  those  attributes  which 
guarantee  the  fitness  of  every  .dealing ;  but,  oh  !  it 
will  cheer  us,  it  will  sustain  us,  it  will  be  to  us  like 
a  rafter  to  a  man  sinking  in  the  waters,  if  we  have 
stored  our  minds  with  the  tokens  of  God's  unva 
ried  loving-kindness,  and  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  pondering  our  daily  mercies.  Then  we  can  say, 
"Thou  art  good,  and  doest  good  continually." 
"  Whatsoever  time  we  are  afraid,  we  will  trust  in 
thee." 


MOSES  OX  THE  MOUNT. 


f    "  And  Moses  rose  up,  and  his  minister  Joshua,  and  Moses  went  up 
into  the  mount  of  God." — EXODUS  xxiv.  13. 


THE  entire  scene  to  which  the  text  calls  our  at 
tention,  is  doubtless  familiar  to  all  my  hearers ;  and 
I  am  therefore  absolved  from  the  necessity  of  en 
tering  upon  a  detail  of  the  circumstances,  any  far 
ther  than  is  needful  to  bring  out  distinctly  the 
great  practical  truths  upon  which  I  design  to  in 
sist.  There  is  manifestly  much  in  the  occurrences 
here  brought  under  our  observation  of  a  miraculous 
character,  much  that  is  to  be  explained  by  the 
peculiar  genius  of  the  institutions  under  which  they 
took  place,  much  that  to  us  wears  the  aspect  of 
mystery.  There  was,  moreover,  a  specific  purpose 
to  be  answered  by  this  particular  dispensation  to 
ward  Moses,  and  consequently  we  are  not  now, 
under  God's  ordinary  arrangements,  to  look  for  a 
repetition  of  scenes  conformable  in  all  their  exter 
nal  aspects  to  the  one  which  is  here  recorded.  And 
yet  these  outward  forms,  which  so  strike  the  senses, 
embody  a  great  fact  to  which  we  may  expect 
something  correspondent  now,  though  nothing 


MOSES    ON    THE.MOU^T.  167 

analogous,  so  far  as  its  accompanying  symbols  are 
concerned.  In  reality,  if  we  compare  faithfully 
the  Old  Testament  with  the  New,  we  shall  be 
struck  with  the  wonderful  correspondence  between 
them.  Every  type  has  its  anti-type  ;  every  shadow 
its  substance  ;  every  symbol  its  great  truth ;  and  to 
all  the  ancient  manifestations  of  God,  there  is  some 
thing  answerable  in  man's  spiritual  experience 
now.  Though  the  forms  in  which  truth  may  have 
been  conveyed  are  changed,  the  truth  is  the  same ; 
though  symbols  and  signs  may,  in  a  great  measure, 
have  vanished,  the  things  signified  remain.  Nay, 
more  than  this,  the  truths  which  were  of  old  con 
veyed  in  these  peculiar  and  oftentimes  miraculous 
forms,  are  even  more  distinctly  presented  to  us 
under  the  gospel ;  and  the  privileges  to  which  we 
are  now  introduced  are  larger  and  fuller  than  were 
those  vouchsafed  in  ancient  times. 

With  these  general  remarks,  designed  to  justify 
the  train  of  thought  I  am  about  to  set  before  you, 
and  to  relieve  me  from  the  necessity  of  an  attempt 
to  explain  all  the  minute  circumstances  here  re 
corded,  I  proceed  at  once  to  a  consideration  of  the 
great  subject  suggested,  in  the  lights  in  which  this 
narrative  presents  it. 

That  subject  is  communion  ivith  God — as  to  its 
reality,  as  to  the  principles  upon  which  it  is  secured 
and  maintained,  and  as  to  its  effects  ;  upon  all  which 
points,  I  think,  we  shall  find  light  shed  by  the 
history  before  us. 

I.  Our  first  remark  then  is,  the  fact  that  Moses 
went  up  to  the  mount  and  there  held  communion 


168  MOSES   ON  THE   MOUNT. 

with  God.  It  was  a  wonderful  dispensation  we 
say,  and  a  privilege,  we  are  apt  to  think,  which 
growing  out  of  his  peculiar  circumstances,  we  are  not 
now  to  look  for.  This  may,  indeed,  be  so,  if  we  re 
fer  exclusively  to  the  outward  visible  preparatives 
and  accompaniments ;  yet,  as  to  the  thing  itself, 
there  is  not  a  little  language  in  the  New  Testament 
which  represents  it  as  the  common  privilege  of 
believers  in  Jesus  Christ.  "  Our  fellowship  is  with 
the  Father  and  wTith  his  Son."  "  Ye  are  the 
temples  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  "  Know  ye  not  that 
God  dwelleth  in  you  ?"  There  is  something  in  these 
expressions  which  convey  the  idea  of  a  very  close 
and  intimate  intercourse  between  the  soul  and  God ; 
and  if  we  are  told  that  the  language  is  figurative, 
we  reply  that  there  must  be  a  correspondence  be 
tween  the  sign  and  the  thing  signified,  and  that  the 
truth  conveyed  by  a  figure  must  be  more  wonderful 
than  the  figure  itself.  The  fact  itself  of  this  com 
munion  is  unquestionable,  however  difficult  it  may  be 
to  explain  the  manner  in  which  it  is  enjoyed.  Paul 
speaks  of  it  as  a  matter  which  every  Christian  ought 
to  understand.  "Know  ye  not  that  ye  are  the  tem 
ples  of  God,  and  that  the  Spirit  of  God  dwelleth 
in  you  ?"  It  is  one  of  the  earliest  lessons  in  religion ; 
you  cannot  have  taken  a  single  step  in  an  enlight 
ened  Christianity,  and  yet  be  ignorant  of  this,  that 
ye  are  sanctuaries  of  the  most  High  God  in  which 
he  dwells.  Such  a  spiritual  fellowship  involves  on 
our  part  a  simplicity  of  faith  in  the  Divine  testi 
mony,  a  coming  unto  God,  "  believing  that  he  is, 
and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently 


MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT.  169 

seek  Lini ;"  and  on  the  part  of  God  a  manifestation 
of  himself  in  a  distinct  manner  to  the  believing, 
waiting  soul,  so  that  it  has  a  conscious  sense  of  the 
divine  presence.  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  the 
aspect  of  mysticism  which  such  a  subject  must  wear 
to  the  inexperienced,  and  I  do  not  know  that  it 
can  be  made  intelligible  in  any  other  way  than  by 
experience ;  and  yet  so  far  as  I  can  see,  there  is 
nothing  irrational  in  a  consciousness  of  the  Divine 
presence.  God  is  the  omnipresent  one,  omnipresent 
in  all  his  perfections.  He  is  every  where  in  his 
wisdom,  his  love,  his  power,  and  his  purity ;  and 
surely  he  can  make  a  soul  who  waits  upon  him 
conscious  of  his  presence.  It  is,  moreover,  right  to 
add  here,  that  a  spiritual  mind  is  possessed  of  those 
susceptibilities,  or  is  in  that  state  which  adapts  it  to 
receive  impressions  from  God's  character.  There 
may  be  and  doubtless  is  an  analogy  between  the 
sensible  and  the  spiritual  world  which  will  illus 
trate  this  thought.  There  is  a  relation  between 
our  senses  and  the  objects  by  which  we  are  sur 
rounded.  He  who  created  the  eye  and  the  beauti 
ful  things  which  we  behold  in  nature,  created  them 
so  as  to  adapt  them  to  each  other.  God,  most 
assuredly,  would  not  have  thrown  on  the  theatre 
of  nature  forms  so  lovely,  and  beauty  so  great  as 
we  perceive,  unless  in  connection  with  them  he  had 
made  a  rational,  thoughtful  creature,  and  bestowed 
on  him  senses  by  means  of  which  he  might  derive 
pleasure  from  these  created  beauties.  So  in  the 
spiritual  world,  through  faith  in  the  divine  testi 
mony,  the  attributes  of  God,  the  great  objects  of 


170  MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT. 

religion  touch  (if  I  may  speak  so,)  the  soul  at  every 
point.  The  spiritual  man  has  a  perception  of  God, 
an  understanding  of  truth,  and  an  enjoyment  of 
spiritual  objects  which  the  carnal  man  has  not,  and 
can  pass  through  and  beyond  earthly  and  created 
things,  and  find  his  happiness  in  God  himself.  If 
it  is  folly  for  a  blind  man  or  a  deaf  man,  to  talk  of 
the  mysticism  of  him  who  speaks  of  the  beauties 
and  melodies  of  nature,  no  less  folly  is  it  for  a  man, 
a  mere  creature  of  sense,  destitute  of  all  those  sus 
ceptibilities  of  spiritual  impression  which  are  inse 
parable  from  faith  in  the  divine  testimony,  to  talk 
of  the  mysticism  and  enthusiasm  of  the  spiritual 
man,  who  speaks  of  his  conscious  sense  of  the  divine 
presence.  Why,  my  brethren,  every  religious  act, 
every  spiritual  experience,  implies  this  fellowship 
of  which  we  speak.  What  is  the  Christian's  trust  but 
the  simple  dependence  of  the  mind  upon  a  present 
God?  What  is  religious  joy  but  a  happy  emotion 
of  delight  in  God  ?  What  is  love  but  the  attrac 
tion  of  the  heart's  affections  to  the  divine  charac 
ter,  distinctly  perceived  ?  What  is  hope  but  the 
pleasing  anticipation  of  the  full  possession  of  those 
spiritual  objects  with  which  now  we  partially  com 
mune,  and  which,  though  imperfectly  exhibited, 
are  so  satisfying  to  the  mind  ?  Religion,  spiritual 
religion,  look  at  it  in  any  aspect,  what  is  it  but  the 
communion  of  the  soul  with  its  God  ;  but  the  con 
sciousness  of  an  influence  which  binds  us  to  the 
eternal  throne ;  but  contrition  in  view  of  God's 
mercy  ;  confidence  in  view  of  God's  truth,  wisdom, 
and  power  ;  devotion,  in  view  of  God's  claims  upon 


MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT.  171 

us,  all  seen  and  felt  to  be  true  ?  There  may  be  no 
literal  mountain  which  man  ascends  ;  there  may  be 
no  outward  manifestations  which  strike  the  senses 
of  beholders ;  but  there  is  a  communion  between 
God  and  the  soul,  a  conscious  sense  of  the  divine 
presence,  as  real  and  as  effective  now  as  that  which 
belonged  to  Moses,  when,  at  the  bidding  of  God, 
he  went  up  into  the  mountain.  To  deny  it,  is  to 
rob  the  religion  of  the  gospel  of  all  its  spirituality  ; 
to  be  ignorant  of  it,  is  to  be  destitute  of  the  very 
first  elements  of  Christian  experience. 

II.  The  second  thought  upon  this  subject,  which  the 
narrative  before  us  susrsrests,  relates  to  the  mode 

oo  / 

in  which  this  communion  with  God  is  attained  and 
preserved.  If  you  turn  once  more  to  the  history,  you 
will  find  that  Moses,  in  every  step  he  took  in  obedi 
ence  to  God's  commands,  conformed  himself  strictly 
to  the  provisions  of  the  dispensation  under  which  he 
lived.  An  altar  was  built  at  the  foot  of  the  moun 
tain,  victims  were  slain,  sacrifices  were  presented, 
and  after  these  rites  were  performed,  Moses  ascend 
ed  the  mountain  and  entered  into  the  presence  of 
God ;  and  here  you  have  a  principle,  which  ever 
since  the  fall  of  man,  has  entered  into  true  religion. 
The  idea  of  atonement  in  some  form  is  inseparable 
from  that  of  fellowship  with  heaven.  The  ancient 
patriarchs  never  approached  God  but  on  the  ground 
and  through  the  medium  of  a  sacrifice.  The  whole 
Jewish  service  and  ritual  rested  upon  the  same 
principle.  During  that  entire  economy  nothing  was 
done  in  the  shape  of  religious  worship  but  what  was 
done  through  the  intervention  of  an  atonement. 


172  MOSES   ON   THE   MOUXT. 

It  was  only  by  complying  with  provisions  which  re 
cognized  this  great  principle,  that  any  man  could 
hold  communion  with  God.  This  same  principle 
constitutes  a  distinctive  feature  of  Christianity  ;  but 
as  this  is  a  spiritual  system,  there  must  be  in  ad 
dition  a  recognition  of  spiritual  influences.  All 
communion  with  God  supposes  on  our  part  an  ap 
proach  to  God,  on  the  ground  of  the  sacrifice  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  in  dependence  upon  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

I  surely  need  not  say  to  my  hearers  that  the 
work  of  the  Redeemer  is  the  standing  medium  of 
communication  and  fellowship  between  God  and 
man ;  in  all  his  transactions  with  us,  God  regards 
the  sacrifice  of  the  Saviour ;  this  is  a  first  element 
of  Christian  doctrine,  the  reception  of  which  is  es 
sential  to  every  thing  like  Christian  experience. 
God  never  pardons  a  sinner  but  through  the  atone 
ment  ;  he  never  raises  man  to  a  state  of  grace  but 
through  the  atonement;  he  never  receives  a  re 
turning  prodigal  and  invests  him  with  the  privileges 
and  immunities  of  a  child,  but  through  the  atone 
ment  ;  he  never  meets  man  on  earth,  so  as  to  make 
him  one  with  himself,  and  admit  him  to  the  hopes 
and  joys  of  eternal  life,  but  through  the  atonement ; 
and  no  man  can  offer  prayer,  no  man  can  believe 
to  the  saving  of  the  soul,  no  man  can  rest  in  a  state 
of  Christian  liberty,  or  enjoy  spiritual  purity,  but 
he  must  come  to  God  through  the  atonement.  The 
cross  of  Christ  furnishes  the  only  ground  where 
God  can  meet  man,  or  man  successfully  seek  God  ; 
and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  in^  the  history  of  mind, 


MOSES    01*   THE   MOUNT.  173 

illustrating  this  great  feature  of  the  evangelical 
system,  that  a  recognition  of  the  atonement  and 
true  Christian  experience  are  inseparable.  A 
stranger  to  the  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  stranger 
likewise  to  a  sense  of  forgiven  sin,  to  intelligent, 
spiritual  peace  and  joy;  and  to  speak  to  him  of 
fellowship  with  the  Father  and  his  Son  Jesus  Christ, 
of  a  consciousness  of  the  divine  presence,  of  a  rest 
ing  of  the  soul  with  delight  in  God,  is  to  speak  to 
him  in  an  unknown  dialect. 

The  fact  upon  this  subject,  my  brethren,  is,  that 
God  is  unknown  except  as  God  in  Christ.  It  is 
not  only  that  we  cannot  approach  him,  but  we  can 
not  understand  him,  we  cannot  appreciate  him, 
except  in  the  manifestation  he  has  made  of  him 
self  in  his  Son.  The  gospel,  the  burden  of  which 
is  "  Christ  and  him  crucified,"  is  God's  grand  plan 
of  spiritual  and  providential  government.  Christ 
sits  as  "  priest  upon  the  throne,"  "  the  government 
is  on  his  shoulders,"  every  thing  is  in  his  hands. 
Nature,  in  all  her  departments,  belongs  to  the 
Messiah.  The  world  has  an  interest  in  his  redemp 
tion.  He  planted  his  cross  upon  our  soil,  and 
adapted  the  provisions  of  his  gospel  to  the  ways  of 
the  world.  But  for  the  intervention  of  grace 
through  Christ  Jesus,  we  do  not  see  but  that  upon 
the  entrance  of  transgression,  these  heavens  must 
have  been  wrapped  together  as  a  scroll,  and  have 
passed  away  with  a  terrible  noise,  and  these  ele 
ments  must  have  melted  with  fervent  heat.  Upon 
no  other  principle  can  we  understand  how  a  kind 
Providence  could  shed  down  its  favours  upon  indi- 


174  MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT. 

viduals  or  nations.  If  justice  had  taken  its  unob 
structed  course  originally,  the  world  would  not 
now  have  existed.  But  it  does  exist,  it  is  preserved ; 
and  we  can  account  for  the  preservation  of  a  single 
man,  only  on  this  principle,  that  the  government  of 
the  world  is  an  administration  of  grace  and  mercy 
in  the  hands  of  Christ,  embracing  every  thing.  To 
talk  of  trusting  in  God,  hoping  in  God,  having  com 
munion  with  God,  in  any  other  w^ay  than  upon  the 
ground  of  a  Kedeemer's  sacrifice,  and  through  a 
Redeemer's  mediation,  is  not  simply  to  overlook 
one  important  article  of  Christian  faith,  but  to 
overlook  that  which  constitutes  the  foundation 
stone  of  the  entire  edifice,  giving  consistency,  co 
herence,  and  value  to  all  its  different  parts. 

No  less  essential  to  communion  with  God,  is,  I 
imagine,  a  recognition  of  spiritual  influence.  Cast 
your  eye  over  the  New  Testament,  and  see  how  it 
speaks  of  the  office  and  operations  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  then  determine,  whether  this  influence 
is  not  part  of  Christianity  itself.  "  I  will  send  you 
the  Comforter,  who  shall  abide  with  you  forever.1' 
"Who  shall  guide  you  into  all  truth."  "Who 
shall  take  of  mine,  and  shall  show  it  unto  you." 
"  No  man  can  say  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ  but  by 
the  Holy  Ghost."  "  The  Spirit  of  God  dwelleth 
in  you."  There  is,  I  am  aware,  sometimes  in 
the  minds  even  of  Christians,  a  scepticism  upon 
this  point,  when  they  pray  for  an  outpouring  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  upon  themselves  and  others,  as  if 
it  were  too  much  too  expect  it,  or  as  if  the  gift 
were  to  be  brought  from  some  great  distance  ;  and 


MOSES    ON    THE   MOUOT.  175 

yet  spiritual  influence  is  inseparably  connected 
with  the  work  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  We 
might  as  well  talk  of  Christianity  without  a 
Saviour,  as  of  Christianity  without  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Wherever  God's  truth  exists,  there  the  Holy  Ghost 
exists.  Wherever  the  cross  of  Christ  is  pro 
claimed,  there  the  dews  of  heavenly  grace  descend  ; 
and  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  Most  High,  where  God 
has  promised  to  meet  his  people,  there  is  the  pre 
sence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  sanctify  and  bless 
those  who  seek  his  influences.  I  do  not  mean  by 
this  remark  to  limit  spiritual  influence  to  the  ap 
pointed  ordinances  of  the  sanctuary,  for  unques 
tionably  it  goes  beyond  them ;  but  I  mean  to  say 
that  where  the  ordinances  of  Christianity  exist, 
there  is  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  impart  light,  holiness 
and  joy  to  those  who  thus  wait  upon  God. 

There  is,  then,  my  brethren,  such  a  thing  as 
ascending  the  mountain,  in  a  spiritual  sense,  to  hold 
communion  with  God  ;  and  it  can  be  our  privilege 
only  as  ours  is  the  spirit  of  his  ancient  servant. 
We  must  go  to  the  cross,  wre  must  acknowledge  the 
atonement,  take  into  our  lips  the  name  of  Christ, 
and,  in  dependence  upon  the  promised  influences  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  approach  the  Throne  of  Grace 
with  confidence  and  boldness. 

III.  I  proceed  to  a  third  remark.  Moses  ascend 
ed  the  mountain  alone.  If  you  turn  to  the  narra 
tive  you  will  find  that  Joshua  and  some  others  were 
permitted  to  go  partly  up  the  hill,  and  then  they 
were  commanded  to  stop,  and  Moses  singly  pro 
ceeded,  and  by  himself  was  admitted  to  this  ele- 


176  HOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT. 

vated  intercourse  with  God.  And  liere  we  have 
presented  to  us  another  principle  of  all  spiritual 
religion  and  spiritual  communion ;  they  are  strictly 
personal.  Our  devotional  exercises  are  all  of  this 
nature.  True  it  is,  we  meet,  at  this  day,  in  public 
fellowship,  but  there  is  a  sense  in  which  the 
soul  sits  solitary  and  alone  in  the  midst  of  a 
multitude.  Here  I  stand,  and  there  you  sit.  There 
may  be  one  character,  one  faith,  one  love,  one 
hope,  one  joy,  but  our  several  emotions  are  perso 
nal  ;  they  belong  to  ourselves,  not  as  united  in  a 
particular  association,  but  as  individuals.  You 
know  not  my  feelings,  I  know  not  yours.  Poetry 
may  represent  our  praise  and  prayer  as  ascending 
to  God  like  a  cloud  of  incense ;  but  though  they 
may  ascend  intermingled,  and  in  common  language, 
yet  when  they  reach  the  throne,  we  may  be  sure 
that  God  will  separate  the  elements  of  which  they 
are  composed.  We  may  join  in  the  same  service, 
sing  the  same  hymn,  unite  in  the  same  prayer,  and 
yet  there  will  be  in  the  case  of  every  individual  a 
difference,  and  that  difference  is  distinctly  recog 
nized  by  God. 

So  in  the  bestowment  of  good,  on  the  part  of 
God,  the  same  principle  obtains.  He  has,  indeed, 
made  a  general,  all-sufficient  provision  for  the  sal 
vation  of  men,  he  has  provided  for  the  pardon  of 
all ;  but  then  in  the  bestowment  of  the  blessings 
of  his  grace,  he  deals  with  man  as  an  individual. 
When  the  soul  is  converted,  justified,  sanctified, 
and  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  is  bestowed,  God 
deals  with  man  as  an  individual.  He  raises  him  to 


MOSES   ON   THE   MOUNT.  177 

the  condition  of  one  of  his  own  children,  by  an 
act  of  sovereign  grace  and  love,  contemplating  him 
in  his  personal  character.  If  our  salvation  is  per 
sonal,  so  also,  must  be  the  duties  and  privileges 
connected  with  it.  No  man  can  discharge  duty ;  no 
man  can  enjoy  privilege  for  another.  Our  commu 
nion  with  God  must  be  personal. 

But  I  may  carry  my  idea  still  farther,  and  say 
that  solitude,  strictly  speaking,  is  extremely  favour 
able  to  the  highest  attainments  and  enjoyments  of 
the  Christian  life.  The  closet  of  the  Christian  is 
analogous  to  the  mountain  ascended  by  Moses. 
There  the  Christian  ascends,  shut  out  from  human 
observation,  the  carnal  affections  of  life,  the  influ 
ence  of  human  passion  and  desire ;  there  he  ascends, 
his  mind  fixed  upon  God  as  he  reveals  himself  in 
Jesus  Christ  upon  the  pages  of  his  holy  word,  and 
waits  for  the  communications  of  his  grace.  There 
he  stands  like  the  traveller  upon  the  mountain 
with  the  sun  shining  over  and  around  him  in  his 
brightness,  while  clouds  and  darkness  roll  beneath 
him. 

I  may  add,  moreover,  that  solitude  furnishes  the 
best  test  of  our  religious  enjoyment.  There  is  al 
ways  something  suspicious  about  the  character  of 
our  experience,  when  our  happiness  is  connected 
only  with  public  devotions.  No  man  can  join 
in  the  services  of  the  sanctuary  without  having  his 
feelings  excited  in  one  way  or  another.  Our  sen 
timents,  in  such  circumstances,  may,  in  their  own 
nature,  be  happy,  but  if  they  subside  when  we 
leave  the  sanctuary,  we  have  reason  to  doubt  whe- 
12  " 


178  MOSES    ON  THE   MOUNT. 

ther  they  are  truly  the  result  of  divine  influence ; 
but  when  we  enjoy  ourselves  alone;  when  alone  we 
have  communion  with  God;  when  alone  we  find 
joy  in  pouring  out  our  hearts  in  prayer,  we  have  a 
proof  of  the  purity  and  genuineness  of  our  Chris 
tian  feelings.  And  this  is  a  thought  to  which  I  im 
agine  we  cannot  in  our  day  give  too  much  promi 
nence.  It  is  an  age  of  externals — it  is  an  age  of 
action.  I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  men  pay 
too  much  regard  to  what  is  carnal  and  sensible  in 
religion ;  but  I  fear  they  pay  too  little  regard  to 
that  which  is  spiritual  and  truly  sanctifying.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  there  is  too  much  activity 
among  the  professed  disciples  of  Christ,  but  I  fear 
there  is  too  little  retirement ;  and  no  man  can  be 
truly  wise  or  holy,  or  spiritually  great,  unless  he 
tears  himself  away  from  the  bustle  of  life,  and  holds 
frequent  communion  with  God  in  private. 

IV.  Another  thought  I  have  to  offer  upon  this  sub 
ject  is  suggested  by  the  brilliant  appearance  of 
Moses,  consequent  upon  his  communion  with  God. 
An  unusual  light,  beauty,  and  glory  shone  upon  his 
countenance.  We  cannot  give  a  satisfactory  ex 
planation  of  this  appearance.  It  was  undoubtedly 
typical  and  symbolical  of  a  greater  glory  ;  and  yet 
I  think  we  are  warranted  in  view  of  it  to  say  that 
communion  with  God  will  cause  his  beauty  to  rest 
upon  the  soul.  There  may  be  no  external  bright 
ness  like  that  which  beamed  upon  the  face  of 
Moses,  but  there  will  be  a  spiritual  light  beaming 
forth  instead  upon  the  mind.  Joy,  for  example, 
will  be  a  consequence  of  this  communion.  How 


MOSES    OK   THE    MOUNT.  1*79 

can  it  be  otherwise  ?  When  the  Saviour  first  re 
veals  himself  to  the  heart,  there  is  a  consciousness 
of  delight.  No  one  can  be  admitted  into  the  family 
of  God,  and  have  satisfactory  evidence  that  he  is 
delivered  from  the  wrath  to  come,  without  knowing: 

7  O 

the  joy  which  springs  from  the  manifestations  of 
the  Saviour  to  the  heart ;  and  where  there  is  the 
experience  of  the  love  of  Christ  in  daily  fellowship, 
there  must  be  a  peculiar  happiness  with  which  a 
stranger  cannot  intermeddle ;  of  which  the  world 
knoweth  nothing,  and  which  it  can  neither  give  nor 
take   away.      I  know  when  we  indulge  in   such 
thoughts,  and  speak  in  such  a  strain   of  inward 
Christian  experience,  we  seem  to  many  to  be  mov 
ing  very  close  on  the  confines  of  enthusiasm.     Of 
this,  I  imagine,  however,  that  we  need  have  no  ap 
prehensions  in  our  day.    Surrounded  and  influenced 
as  we  are  by  earthly  things,  there  is  little  or  no 
danger  of  religious  enthusiasm.     The  incrustations 
of  the  world  so  weigh  down,  and  if  I  may  speak  so, 
sensualize  our  Christianity,  that  instead  of  prizing, 
we  are  apt  to  neglect  the  pleasures  to  which  we 
are  invited  in  communion  with  God  ;  and  yet  the 
man  who  never  received  any  happiness  from  such 
communion,  or  never  in  his  experience  resulting 
from  it,  found  himself  a  subject  of  a  deep  and  peaceful 
emotion,  has  never  fully  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
true  Christianity.     The  impulses  of  vital  religion, 
when  they  exist  in  the  mind,  and  they  will  exist 
when  there  is  communion  with  God,  must  animate 
the  spirit. 

Nor  is  joy  the  only  fruit  of  this  fellowship.   There 


180  MOSES   ON   THE   MOUNT. 

must  be  in  consequence  of  it  an  expansion  of  the 
capacity,  an  enlargement  of  the  soul.  Worldly 
men,  sometimes  designate  Christians  as  little  crea 
tures  ;  but  the  man  who  walks  with  God  cannot 
possibly  be  a  man  of  contracted,  paltry  views ; 
there  is  that  in  divine  truth,  there  is  that  in  the 
spirit  and  habit  of  devotion,  there  is  that  in  inter 
course  with  God  which  must  expand  the  mind ; 
the  soul  which  is  stretched  to  the  dimensions  of 
Christianity  must  be  the  greatest  soul  on  earth. 
The  man  of  religion  can  enjoy  every  other  form  of 
truth  and  knowledge  in  common  with  the  man  of 
the  world  ;  he  can  traverse  the  pages  of  history,  he 
can  enter  into  all  the  sciences  and  philosophy,  he 
can  appreciate  the  productions  of  the  poet,  he  can 
(like  other  men)  transact  the  common,  commercial 
business  of  life,  he  can  comprehend  with  others  the 
principles  of  political  economy  and  legislative 
jurisprudence,  he  can  go  in  intellectual  attainment, 
all  the  lengths  of  the  men  of  this  world,  and  when 
he  comes  to  the  termination  of  all  that  earth  can 
teach  and  earth  can  give,  God  opens  the  treasures 
of  religion,  and  the  boundless  prospect  of  an  eter 
nal  life.  We  cannot,  my  brethren,  throw  our 
minds  fully  into  devotional  duties  without  finding 
that  our  intercourse  with  God,  and  with  spiritual 
and  eternal  things,  must  produce  elevation  of 
thought  and  purity  of  heart.  Oh  !  if  we  constantly 
indulge  in  little  petty  passions,  in  worldly  feelings, 
in  insignificant  doubts  and  fears,  if  we  are  troubled 
and  thrown  into  consternation  by  the  small  inte 
rests  of  time,  and  the  passing,  ephemeral  events 


MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT.  181 

which  are  occurring  around  us,  we  indicate  too 
surely  that  we  are  living  at  the  base,  and  not  on 
the  top  of  the  mountain.  Fellowship  with  God 
and  with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  while  it  will  elevate 
man  to  the  highest  point  attainable  below,  will 
produce  a  spirituality  and  a  purity  unknown  in 
any  other  circumstances  whatever. 

Then  we  must  add  that  there  is  always  a  cor 
respondence  between  inward  experience  and  out 
ward  manifestation  ;  and  he  who  holds  communion 
with  God,  will  be  marked  by  an  external  beauty 
of  character.     Internal  purity  shows  itself  in  out 
ward  conduct;  if  it  belongs  to  us,  the  evidence 
of  its  reality   and    degree   will  be  furnished  in 
a   spotless,   holy  life.     Make  the  tree   good,  and 
its  fruit  will  be  good.     As   a  man   catches  the 
spirit    of   his  master  from    constant    intercourse 
with    him,    the    Christian   will    live   the    life   of 
his  Master   upon    earth,   imitating  Him,   who   in 
a  spirit   of  love   sought   the   glory   of   God  and 
the  good  of  others;   and  this  it  is  which   gives 
effectiveness  to  Christian  character ;  it  is  this  mani 
fested  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ  which  is  to  save  the 
world.     The  contest  which  is  carried  on  between 
truth  and  error,  between  righteousness  and  sin,  is 
more  a  contest  of  feeling,  than  of  principle.     Men, 
indeed,  array  themselves  as  disputants  against  the 
truth,  and  are  prepared  to  oppose  by  argument 
every  argument  of  Christianity ;  and  yet  the  tri 
umphs  of  the  cross  are  not  usually  secured  by  dis 
putation  ;  it  is  not  learning,  it  is  not  logic,  it  is  not 
brilliancy  of  talent,  which  makes  a  man  mighty  to 


182  MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT. 

the  pulling  down  of  strongholds ;  it  is  the  power 
of  the  manifested  spirit  of  Christian  love.  The  dif 
ficulty  to  be  overcome  lies  back  of  the  intellect,  in 
the  heart ;  and  he  who  goes  in  the  spirit  of  prayer, 
under  the  influence  of  the  love  of  God  and  the 
love  of  man,  does  not  meet  directly  the  obstacles 
which  sophistry  and  false  reasoning  oppose  to  the 
truth,  but  by  the  blandness  of  his  character,  the 
purity  of  his  life,  the  plainly  manifested  spirit  of 
his  Master,  forces  his  way  through  all  difficulties  to 
the  heart,  and  by  influencing  that  controls  the 
mind.  Communion  with  God,  gives  no  less  joy, 
and  elevation,  and  purity  to  the  soul,  than  it  does 
energy  to  the  character. 

V.  I  have  yet  a  final  remark  to  make  upon  this 
general  subject.  It  is  suggested  by  the  veil  which 
Moses  put  upon  his  countenance  when  he  came 
down  from  the  mountain  to  hold  fellowship  with 
the  people.  The  meaning  of  this  we  cannot,  per 
haps,  thoroughly  divine ;  it  may  have '  been  de 
signed  to  symbolize  the  darkness  of  the  dispensa 
tion  under  which  the  Jews  lived.  But,  whatever 
may  have  been  the  meaning,  we  have  the  fact, 
which,  perhaps,  may  find  something  analogous  to  it 
in  the  circumstances  of  some  Christians  which  veil 
their  spiritual  glory  and  obscure  their  grandeur. 
There  is,  for  example,  now,  often  a  great  contrast 
between  the  outward  circumstances  of  a  spiritual 
disciple,  and  his  privileges  and  inward  experience. 
You  find  a  man  occupying  perhaps  the  lowest  posi 
tion  in  life,  busied  in  the  most  menial  services. 
These  are  his  earthly  relations.  Who  would  think 


MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT.  183 

of  such  a  man  that  he  constitutes  part  of  God's 
portion,  an  object  of  his  highest  delight ;  and  yet 
follow  that  man  in  his  retirement,  and  you  will 
find  him  opening  the  sacred  page,  kneeling  before 
the  mercy  seat,  admitted  to  fellowship  with  God, 
drinking  in  streams  of  spiritual  joy,  and  rejoicing 
in  heavenly  hope.  What  a  contrast !  How  lit 
tle  the  world,  as  it  looks  upon  him,  knows  about 
him! 

It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  to  find  the  highest 
style  of  spirituality  concealed  under  an  exterior  far 
from  prepossessing,  and  by  circumstances  often 
times  forbidding,  on  account  of  their  painfulness. 
Who  would  think  that  that  wretched,  forsaken 
one  for  whom  no  friendly  eye  weeps,  and  with 
whom  no  friendly  heart  sympathises,  is  yet  dear  to 
God  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  is  living  under  the 
light  of  God's  countenance,  and  in  the  assured  faith 
of  joys  to  come. 

Providence,  too,  how  often  it  throws  darkness 
around  the  Christian,  contrasting  strongly  with  his 
spiritual  light.  In  his  spiritual  state  he  enjoys  the 
richest  blessings,  while  he  is  the  sport  of  natural 
troubles,  disappointment,  and  grief.  Some  men, 
and  Christian  men,  seem  as  though  they  were  born 
to  trial.  If  they  think  they  have  escaped  one 
wave  of  sorrow,  another  soon  overtakes  them.  If 
they  appear  to  gain  one  haven  of  repose  they  are 
soon  driven  out  again  to  sea.  If  the  wind  and  the 
tempest  are  hushed  for  a  short  time,  they  rise  again 
in  greater  turbulence  and  darkness,  and  it  is  only 
when  the  last  wrave  comes,  which  leaves  them  on 


184  MOSES    ON   TIIE   MOUNT. 

the  shore  of  immortality,  that  their  troubles  termi 
nate. 

Affliction  often  reils  the  state  of  Christians. 
What  judgment,  what  strength  of  intellect,  what 
mental  resources,  what  deep-toned  spirituality, 
marked  the  character  of  Richard  Baxter ;  and  what 
a  contrast  to  all  these,  is  furnished  in  the  fact,  that 
he  scarcely  enjoyed  any  temporal  comforts  from 
the  time  of  his  conversion  till  he  put  off  mortality 
and  went  to  his  eternal  home.  Robert  Hall,  with 
a  genius  than  which  none  more  brilliant,  a  mind 
than  which  none  more  elevated,  a  taste  than  which 
none  more  refined,  eloquence  than  which  none  more 
polished,  public  spirit  and  patriotism  than  which 
none  greater  ever  belonged  to  a  human  being,  a 
man  withal  deeply  imbued  with  the  love  of  God, 
and  whose  marked  spirituality  of  character,  formed 
his  brightest  adornment — Robert  Hall  did  not  re 
collect  from  his  infancy  the  enjoyment  of  a 
moment's  ease.  And  they  are  but  instances  of  the 
kind.  Good  men  in  this  world,  are  often  misunder 
stood  and  mistaken.  Sometimes  they  may  appear 
morose ;  circumstances  throw  a  veil  over  them,  and 
though  unobserved  by  the  public  eye,  the  impress 
of  God's  image  is  bright  and  beautiful  upon  the 
mind. 

Permit  me  to  add,  in  concluding  these  remarks, 
and  as  exhibiting  the  end  upon  which  they  are  de 
signed  to  bear,  that  communion  with  God  is  the 
privilege  and  duty  of  every  professed  disciple  of 
Jesus  Christ.  We  never  can  attain  to  Christian  joy 
or  Christian  usefulness  without  it.  The  soul  must 


MOSES    ON   THE   MOUNT.  185 

converse  much  with  herself  and  with  God  to  be 
either  very  great  or  very  happy.  Our  sources  of 
happiness,  our  power  for  usefulness,  are  found  in 
scenes  of  close  communion  with  our  Master.  A 
stranger  to  such  scenes  cannot  be  a  useful  man. 
Natural  talents,  great  learning,  eminent  reputation, 
and  great  wealth,  may  do  much  toward  the  exter 
nal  development  of  Christianity  in  the  world  ;  but 
it  is  only  genuine  Christianity  in  the  heart  which 
can  win  souls  to  Christ. 

Go  up  into  the  mount,  then,  my  fellow  Christians, 
and  there  hold  converse  with  God ;  and  then  and 
there,  in  your  happiest  moments,  when  faith  is  in  its 
most  lively  exercise,  and  you  have  most  power 
with  God,  remember  the  church  of  Christ, — remem 
ber  your  own  church.  They  prosper  who  love 
Zion.  Pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem ;  for  the 
extension  of  Christ's  kingdom  ;  for  the  salvation  of 
souls ;  and  then  the  dews  of  heavenly  grace  will 
descend,  and  measures  of  divine  influence  be  poured 
out,  and  our  souls  shall  rejoice  together  in  the  lov 
ing  kindness  of  God. 


.THE  LIFE  TO  COME. 


"  The  life  that  now  is,  and  that  which  is  to  come." — 1  TIM.  iv.  18. 

"  THE  life  which  is  to  come,"  (the  thought  upon 
which  I  wish  to  fix  your  minds  this  morning)  is  to 
be  looked  upon  in  its  connection  with  "  the  life 
which  is,"  as  being  its  full  and  perfect  develop 
ment.  The  one  is  the  commencement,  the  other  is 
the  consummation  of  human  existence,  neither  of 
which  is  rightly  understood  except  as  they  are  con 
sidered  to  be  the  successive  stages  of  one  and  the 
same  being.  It  is  a  very  simple  idea,  apparently, 
— that  I  am  to  live  hereafter — that  in  "  the  life 
which  now  is,"  I  am  standing  upon  the  threshold 
of  "  the  life  which  is  to  come,"  and  preparing  the 
elements  of  its  character  and  experience — that 
through  whatever  scenes  I  am  to  pass,  whatever 
may  be  the  changes  in  the  form  and  mode  of  my 
existence,  I,  the  same  conscious,  thinking,  feeling, 
active  being,  am  to  live  hereafter,  and  live  for  ever. 
And  yet,  simple  as  is  the  idea,  it  is  one  of  command 
ing  powei;  over  the  human  mind.  It  gives  us  views  of 
the  present  such  as  no  other  thought  can  impart  to  it, 
and  stirs  up  emotions  such  as  no  other  influence  can 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  187 

excite,  and  gives  birth  to  purposes,  and  prompts 
to  action  such  as  nothing  else  can  originate.  It  is 
a  mighty  conception,  that  of  "  the  life  which  is  to 
come,"  one  which  grows  upon  us  the  longer  we  pon 
der  it,  and  which  whenever  taken  in  by  the  mind, 
must  be  seen  in  corresponding  effects  upon  the 
character.  I  am  now  a  conscious  being  ;  what  I  am 
now  in  this  respect  I  shall  be  for  ever.  As  to  the 
power  of  this  thought  we  can  imagine  none  which 
does  not  dwindle  into  insignificance  when  brought 
into  the  comparison.  Doubtless  all  of  my  hearers 
are  familiar  with  the  story  of  the  man  who  was 
arrested  in  a  career  of  sensuality  and  crime, 
brought  to  think  upon  his  ways,  and  turn  his  feet 
unto  God's  testimonies  by  simply  reading  the 
record  of  the  deaths  of  the  antediluvian  patriarchs. 
The  simple  words,  "  he  died,"  appended  to  each  of 
their  names,  brought  home  in  the  most  startling 
manner  to  his  mind  this  thought,  that  the  most 
protracted  life  on  earth  must  come  to  an  end.  He 
could  not  banish  the  idea  that  his  life  on  earth 
must  close,  and  he  was  stirred  up  most  effectually 
to  prepare  for  its  termination.  But  how  much 
more  startling  should  be  the  sentence,  "  he  lives," 
written  upon  every  man's  tomb-stone,  or  appended 
to  the  record  of  every  man's  departure  from  this 
world.  From  the  simple  expression,  "he  died," 
taken  by  itself,  we  gather  no  other  idea  than  that 
he  has  passed  from  this  stage  of  being ;  but  the 
expression,  "  he  lives,"  indicates  a  futurity,  and  lets 
the  imagination  run  wild  in  filling  up  that  futurity 
with  images  of  magnificence  and  terror ;  and  it  is 


188  THE   LIFE   TO    COME. 

because  the  thought  of  living  hereafter  has  become 
associated  somehow  in  our  minds  with  the  thought 
of  dying  here,  that  the  latter  thought  exerts  such 
an  influence  over  us.  It  is  an  impressive  thing,  a 
genealogy  of  the  generations  who  have  gone  before 
us ;  not  because  as  we  look  over  page  after  page 
we  read  the  names  of  those  who  once  were  like 
ourselves  instinct  with  life,  who  had  their  joys  and 
sorrows,  their  hopes  and  fears,  their  plans  and  pro 
jects,  which  have  all  come  to  an  end,  but  because 
we  read  the  names  of  those  who  are  now  living, 
and  whose  present  consciousness  takes  its  character 
from  the  hopes  and  fears,  the  plans  and  projects 
which  marked  their  earthly  history.  The  dead — we 
speak  of  them  as  those  who  are  not.  But  in  this 
sense  there  are  no  dead  in  the  universe ;  of  the 
mighty  catalogue  written  in  heaven's  book  of  men 
who  have  been,  not  one  has  passed  into  nothing 
ness  ;  of  every  human  being,  it  is  true,  that  when 
he  began  to  be,  he  began  to  be  immortal ;  he  may 
have  changed  his  place  and  his  mode  of  existence, 
his  dust  may  have  returned  to  the  earth  as  it  was ; 
but  yet  he  lives  as  truly  as  he  ever  did,  and  will 
continue  to  live  through  ceaseless  ages  ;  and  what 
is  true  of  all  before  us  is  and  will  be  true  of  each 
one  of  ourselves.  There  is  a  "  life  to  come,"  and  in 
a  very  short  time  we  shall  be  mingling  in  its  scenes 
with  those  who  have  preceded  us.  This  then  is 
my  thought  this  morning,  "  The  life  to  come ;"  its 
certainty  ;  the  elements  of  its  experience  ;  the  influ 
ence  it  should  exert  over  our  minds.  Give  me  your 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  189 

attention  while  I  endeavour  to  set  these  thoughts 
in  order  before  you. 

I.  Now,  with  regard  to  the  first  point — the  cer 
tainty  of  "  the  life  which  is  to  come,"  I  admit, 
that  our  storehouse  of  proofs  is  liere,  in  the  revela 
tion  of  God.  I  do  not  suppose  that  the  human 
mind  could,  as  it  never  has  done,  reach  absolute 
assurance  upon  this  article,  independently  of  some 
supernatural  disclosures.  It  is  here  that  life  and 
immortality  have  been  disclosed  by  the  Great 
Teacher,  who  came  down  from  heaven,  and  not 
only  disclosed  in  his  instructions,  but  set  in  a  most 
vivid  light,  by  the  miracles  he  wrought,  in  bring 
ing  back  men  from  the  grave,  and  by  his  own  re 
surrection,  the  type  and  pledge  of  the  resurrection 
of  the  race.  It  is  upon  this  proof,  then,  that  we 
fall  back,  and  we  are  not  ashamed  to  avow  our  un 
shaken  confidence  in  these  disclosures,  in  the  face 
of  a  gainsaying  and  skeptical  world,  in  view  of  the 
evidence  of  truth  which  crowds  itself  upon  the 
mind,  from  the  facts  of  history,  from  the  fulfilment 
of  prophecy,  from  the  performance  of  miracles, 
and  from  the  internal  fitnesses  and  proprieties  of 
the  disclosures  themselves  ;  evidence,  which  having 
been  for  centuries  subjected  to  the  most  rigid  and 
scrutinizing  investigation,  on  the  part  both  of  friends 
and  foes,  may  be  safely  considered  as  an  impregna 
ble  basis  for  faith,  and  hope,  and  joy. 

"We  have  not,  then,  in  our  minds,  my  brethren, 
the  purpose  of  originating  any  proof  of  "  the  life 
which  is  to  come,"  differing  from  that  which  is  found 
upon  the  sacred  page.  We  wish  you  to  look  upon 


190  THE    LIFE   TO    COME. 

this  testimony  of  God  as  the  ultimate  ground  of 
faith. 

And  yet  there  is  such  a  thing  as  commending 
ascertained  truth  to  the  conviction  of  the  human 
mind.  We  may,  if  we  are  disposed  to  do  so, 
gather  from  other  sources  collateral  evidence  of  the 
facts  of  revelation.  We  may,  if  we  can  do  so,  meet 
the  gainsayer  and  the  unbeliever  upon  their  own 
ground,  and  turn  the  weapons  with  which  they 
attack  revelation  against  themselves,  by  driving 
them,  upon  their  own  principles,  into  the  admission 
of  "  a  life  to  come."  And  I  am  not  sure  in  these 
days  of  physiological  research  and  philosophic 
pride,  when  the  enmity  of  the  human  heart  against 
the  spiritualities  of  the  Bible  is  but  half  concealed 
under  a  professed  regard  for  the  ascertained  truths 
of  science,  that  it  is  a  waste  of  time  or  labour,  or  an 
inappropriate  work  for  the  advocate  of  truth,  to 
ransack  the  analogies  of  things,  to  trace  the  corres 
pondence  between  the  natural  and  spiritual,  if  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  show  that  a  skepticism  as 
to  "  the  life  which  is  to  come"  has  no  warrant 
whatever  in  any  of  the  things  which  are  seen  and 
known  as  yet;  and  as  an  attribute  of  the  human 
mind  is  gross  and  wicked,  unnatural  and  monstrous. 
Let  me,  then,  for  a  single  moment  carry  you  with 
me  into  this  field  of  thought,  bespeaking  in  the 
mean  time  your  careful  and  fixed  attention  to  what 
I  have  to  offer. 

It  is  so  well  known  that  I  need  hardly  dwell  upon 
the  fact,  that  the  vegetable  and  animal  world  around 
us,  when  subjected  to  a  careful  examination,  pre- 


THE    LIFE    TO    COME.  191 

sent  constant  changes,  renovations,  and  transitions, 
while  the  subject  of  these  changes  and  transitions 
preserves  its  identity.  The  fully  formed  butterfly, 
for  example,  is  the  same  animal  it  was  in  its 
chrysalis,  or  but  partially  developed  form,  and  yet 
the  changes  through  which  it  has  passed  seem  to 
us  well  nigh  miraculous.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  in 
this  connection,  that  the  naturalist  can  very  easily 
distinguish  between  the  kinds  of  animals  which  are 
to  undergo  changes  and  transformations,  and  those 
which  reach  their  perfection  under  one  form  of  life. 
There  are  indications  of  incompleteness  in  the  former 
which  are  not  seen  in  the  latter.  There  are  germs 
of  undeveloped  being,  there  are  certain  symbols  of 
progression  and  instinct  which  point  out  another 
mode  of  existence ;  and  when  these  indications  are 
observed,  and  when  these  animals  are  seen  instinc 
tively  preparing  for  their  change,  seeking  a  retreat, 
and  occupied  in  a  way  unsuited  to  their  present, 
but  exactly  adapted  to  their  future  mode  of  exist 
ence,  we  can  predict  certainly  beforehand,  not  an 
end,  but  a  change  in  life ;  for  here  are  the  leadings 
of  nature,  always  true  in  their  predictions ;  it  would 
be,  to  say  the  least,  unphilosophical  to  affirm  that 
all  these  indications  meant  nothing.  They  do  mean 
something ;  they  are  nature  foretelling  the  changes 
through  which  it  is  to  pass. 

Now,  let  us  see  what  light  this  analogy  throws 
upon  the  problem  of  our  future  existence.  It  is 
unquestionably  true,  that  there  are  mysteries  about 
human  nature  which  nothing  in  the  present  life 
avails  to  solve.  There  are  powers  and  instincts,  as 


192  THE   LIFE   TO    COME. 

yet  undeveloped,  furnishing  evidence  of  their  ex 
istence,  but  not  reaching  their  end.  We  look  for 
the  distinctive  features  of  human  nature,  not  in 
any  thing  which  man  possesses  in  common  with  the 
irrational  tribes  around  him,  not  therefore  in  any 
of  his  animal  instincts  and  susceptibilities,  but  in 
those  moral  and  intellectual  powers  which  are  his 
peculiar  characteristics  as  a  creature  of  God. 
Among  these,  if  any  where,  we  are  to  find  the  sym 
bols  of  another  life  analogous  to  those  instincts 
which  in  the  animal  creation  seem  to  foreshow  a 
new  and  higher  form  of  existence. 

The  materials  of  the  argument  for  the  soul's  im 
mortality,  which  reason  has  at  her  command,  are 
neither  few  nor  trifling.  The  common  conduct  of 
mankind,  who  in  all  ages  and  all  nations  have  ad 
mitted  it,  cannot  well  be  otherwise  accounted  for, 
than  by  admitting  the  substantial  truth  of  the 
thing  believed.  The  aspirations  after  something 
beyond  this  transitory  sphere,  longings  after  the 
future,  always  the  strongest  in  those  minds  whose 
powers  have  been  most  cultivated,  the  vast  com 
pass  of  the  human  faculties,  the  instinctive  recoil 
from  the  thought  of  ceasing  to  be,  above  all  that 
moral  sense,  whose  power  to  afflict  or  gladden  the 
soul  is  dependent  upon  future  retribution,  as  it 
awakens  hope  or  kindles  fear,  form  the  grounds, 
which  cannot  be  removed,  of  a  belief  not  easily  to 
be  shaken.  But  then,  this  is  the  point  of  my  illus 
tration  ;  all  these  prognostics  of  futurity,  are  evi 
dences  on  the  point  only  as  they  show  the  expecta 
tion  of  "  a  life  to  come"  to  be  an  element  of  human 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  193 

nature,  an  original  article  in  the  natural  constitu 
tion  of  the  mind.  It  is  a  well  known  fact,  that 
man  generally  harbours  the  thought  of  living  after 
death.  Most  men  are  convinced  that  they  shall 
live  hereafter,  and  the  exceptions  to  this  statement, 
the  skeptics,  insignificant  in  number,  who  endeavour 
to  evince  the  groundlessness  of  this  expectation, 
prove  by  their  ingenious  and  long  continued  reason 
ing,  that  the  belief  of  immortality  is  instinctive,  or 
at  least  too  general,  and  too  deeply  seated,  to  be 
easily  removed.  With  this  general  view,  we  can 
meet  the  scientific  and  other  doubters  of  the  pre 
sent  generation  upon  their  own  grounds,  and  tell 
them,  that  as  the  forms,  and  instincts,  and  habits 
of  certain  kinds  of  animals  foreshow  a  transforma 
tion  and  a  new  mode  of  existence,  so  does  the  sum 
of  human  impressions,  opinions,  and  expectations, 
constituting,  as  they  do,  elements  essential  parts  of 
our  nature,  indicate  infallibly  what  awaits  the  spe 
cies,  and  prophecy  our  certain  destiny. 

I  know  we  shall  be  told  here,  that  nothing  is 
more  common,  than  for  men  to  entertain  opinions 
and  cherish  expectations  which  are  wholly  ground 
less.  We  are  to  a  great  extent  creatures  of  preju 
dice,  adopting  sentiments  very  hastily,  upon  very 
little  and  unsatisfactory  evidence,  and  clinging  to 
them  with  unyielding  pertinacity,  simply  because 
we  have  advanced  them ;  but  let  it  be  remembered 
that  we  are  speaking  now  not  of  particular  opin 
ions  and  particular  reasonings,  but  we  are  speaking 
of  the  common  reasonings,  the  common  opinions, 
the  common  belief,  the  common  instincts  of  the 
13 


194  THE   LIFE   TO   COME. 

human  family,  all  of  which  point  in  one  direction. 
I  may  reason  falsely  in  some  cases,  but  it  does  not 
prove  that  the  reasoning  faculty  of  the  human  mind 
always  reaches  false  conclusions.  I  may  have  my 
prejudices,  hastily  assumed  and  unfounded,  but  all 
human  opinions  are  not  unwarranted.  My  error  on 
one  point  does  not  prove  my  error  on  a  point  which 
I  hold  in  common  with  the  entire  human  family — 
in  some  articles  of  my  faith  I  may  be  chimerical, 
and  yet  perfectly  rational  in  my  belief  of  generally 
admitted  truths.  So  with  regard  to  the  point  we 
are  now  considering.  My  particular  persuasions 
and  prejudices,  which  may  be  entirely  unwarranted, 
do  not  prove  the  common  belief  of  human  nature 
to  be  a  vanity,  but  rather  the  contrary.  The  par 
ticular  views  which  different  men  entertain  con 
cerning  a  future  life  may  be  fanciful  and  false  ;  but 
so  far  from  militating  against  the  doctrine  itself, 
they  go  upon  the  supposition  that  there  is  "  a  life 
which  is  to  come."  The  particular  desires,  and  views, 
and  hopes  of  the  benighted  Pagan,  the  victim  of 
superstition,  and  even  the  nominal  Christian,  con 
cerning  this  future  life,  may  be  all  wrong  and  de 
lusive  ;  their  hope  of  what  awaits  them  after  death, 
may  be  a  dream,  but  not  so  the  belief  that  they 
shall  survive  death.  So  the  peculiar  forms  of  differ 
ent  religions  may  be  false,  but  the  religious  instinct 
itself  in  man  speaks  the  truth.  The  errors  on  the 
subject  of  religion  and  futurity  of  which  man,  in 
dividually,  or  nationally,  become  the  victims,  may 
all  be  traced  to  artificial  or  accidental  causes,  and 
vanish  the  moment  those  causes  cease  to  operate ; 


THE    LIFE   TO    COME.  195 

but  religion  itself,  a  sense  of  obligation  to  a  higher 
power,  and  the  common  impressions,  expectations 
and  opinions,  concerning  "  a  life  which  is  to  come," 
spring  from  among  the  elements  themselves  of 
human  nature*  You  may  warp  them ;  you  may 
exaggerate  them ;  you  may  deform  them  ;  but 
there  they  are;  you  may  depress  them,  or  cover 
them,  or  secure  their  temporary  denial,  as  to  some 
extent  was  done  in  France  at  the  close  of  the  last 
century ;  but  they  will  reappear  again  every 
where,  with  unabated  force,  and  the  same  essential 
properties.  These  are  very  different  in  their  na 
ture  and  in  tlieir  origin  from  the  particular  persua 
sions  and  prejudices  of  men,  and  they  must  be 
substantially  true,  if  there  is  any  truth  or  harmony 
in  the  general  scheme  of  God's  universe.  For  a 
man,  therefore,  to  doubt  the  truth  of  the  Bible 
upon  this  subject,  is  to  cast  suspicion,  not  upon  the 
teachings  of  revelation  merely,  but  upon  the  teach 
ings  of  nature ;  for  it  is  to  say  that  here  is  a  being, 
possessed  of  the  most  marked  and  decided  indica 
tions  of  a  future  existence,  while  yet  there  may  be 
nothing  at  all  in  the  future  which  can  meet  or  cor 
respond  with  them. 

We  take  our  stand  then  upon  the  ground  of  the 
Bible,  "There  is  a  life  which  is  to  come."  The 
statement  accords  with  the  workings  of  the  human 
mind,  with  the  analogies  of  things,  as  we  see  them 
around  us,  and  with  the  general  constitution  of 
nature.  Thu  skeptic  may  put  on  his  incredulous 
smile,  but  we  can  retort  upon  him  as  a  being  who 
in  his  unbelief  is  resisting  the  clearest  and  most 


196  THE    LIFE   TO    COME. 

conclusive  evidence,  contradicting  the  analogies  of 
things,  and  disputing  truths  which  are  interwoven 
in  the  entire  system  of  God's  creation. 

II.  This  point  settled,  the  certainty  of  "  the  life 
which  is  to  come"  being  established,  what  are  to 
be  its  characteristics,  what  the  elements  which 
shall  go  to  compose  it?  The  importance  of  the 
question  takes  away  all  possibility  of  evading  it. 
The  fact,  that  I  am  to  be,  forced  home  as  a  reality 
upon  my  mind,  shuts  me  up,  irresistibly  to  the  in 
quiry,  "  What  am  I  to  be  ?"  where  am  I  to  be  is  a 
comparatively  trifling  question — one  which  in  view 
of  the  other  is  not  worth  a  thought. 

We  go  then  directly  to  the  source  of  knowledge 
for  light  upon  this  point — and  here  I  need  not  dwell 
upon  the  very  obvious  and  familiar  truth  with  which 
every  reader  of  his  Bible  is  acquainted,  and  which 
he  perfectly  understands,  that  "  the  life  which  now 
is,"  is  a  scene  of  probation,  and  "the  life  which  is 
to  come,"  is  to  be  a  scene  of  retribution.  The 
present  is  a  world  of  doing,  the  future  is  to  be  a 
world  of  recompenses.  It  is  only  for  the  sake  of 
completeness  in  my  exhibition,  that  I  quote  in  sup 
port  of  an  opinion  so  fully  comprehended,  such 
proof  texts  as  these :  "  If  thou  sayest,  Behold,  we 
knew  it  not ;  doth  not  he  that  pondereth  the  heart 
consider  it  ?  and  he  that  keepeth  the  soul,  doth 
not  he  know  it  ?  and  shall  he  not  render  to  every 
man  according  to  his  works  ?"  "  Say  ye  to  the 
righteous  that  it  shall  be  well  with  him,  for  they 
shall  eat  the  fruit  of  their  doings.  Wo  unto  the 
wicked,  it  shall  be  ill  with  him,  for  the  reward  of 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  197 

his  hands  shall  be  given  him."  "And,  behold,  I 
come  quickly,  and  my  reward  is  with  me,  to  give 
to  every  man  according  as  his  work  shall  be." 

Besides  these  general  declarations  as  to  the 
retributive  character  of  the  future  economy,  there 
are  not  wanting  intimations  clear  and  decisive  upon 
the  sacred  page  that  the  future  is  to  be  but  the 
full  development,  in  different  circumstances,  and  in 
a  different  form  of  life,  of  the  present.  The  sym 
bols  used  in  the  Scriptures,  and  the  analogies  they 
adopt  to  illustrate  and  throw  light  upon  the  sub 
ject,  all  show  that  "  the  life  which  is,"  is  to  give 
shape,  and  form,  and  impart  its  elements  to  "  the 
life  which  is  to  come."  According  as  we  are  we 
shall  be ;  according  as  we  feel  now  we  shall  feel 
hereafter ;  and  our  experience  and  reconipences  in 
the  future  shall  perfectly  correspond  in  nature  and 
degree  with  our  actions  in  the  present ;  "  for  what 
soever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap ;  he 
that  soweth  to  the  flesh  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  cor 
ruption  ;  but  he  that  soweth  to  the  spirit  shall  of 
the  spirit  reap  life  everlasting."  Precisely  as  in 
agriculture,  the  grain  which  is  harvested  answers  in 
kind  and  quantity  to  the  seed  sown,  so  in  spiritual 
things  futurities  are  to  answer  to  present  actions. 
There  are  two  ideas  upon  this  subject  which  per 
vade  all  the  teachings  of  revelation.  One  is  that 
hereafter  we  are  to  be  the  same  beings  we  are  now. 
I  do  not  mean  the  same  physically,  but  the  same 
morally ;  I  mean  that  we  have  now,  within  us, 
daily  and  hourly  developing  itself  the  germ  of  our 
eternal,  moral  consciousness.  Whatever  change 


198  THE   LIFE   TO   COME. 

may  take  place  in  us  when  all  that  is  merely  acci 
dental  shall  have  fallen  off,  when  all  merely  ani 
mal  sensations  shall  have  disappeared,  when  our 
present  views  of  things  shall  have  given  place  to 
knowledge  derived  more  directly  from  its  sources, 
there  will  be  no  change  in  those  emotions,  tastes, 
and  moral  dispositions  which  go  to  make  up  the 
very  core  of  our  being.  The  sentiments  and  affec 
tions  which  have  now  settled  down  upon  the  mind, 
and  which  constitute  character,  will  remain,  making 
us  feel  that  we  are  precisely  the  same  we  always 
were.  Thus  the  future  will  be  the  on-going  of  the 
present.  Whatever  passion  sways  us  now  will 
sway  us  hereafter.  The  same  feeling  toward  God 
and  his  requirements  which  now  determines  our 
character  as  his  friends  or  his  enemies,  will  be  car 
ried  out  hereafter,  and  be  seen  and  felt  in  its  bold, 
and  prominent,  and  unveiled  supremacy.  If  we 
love  God  now,  we  shall  love  him  then  ;  if  we  hate 
him  now  we  shall  hate  him  then.  Whatever 
changes  may  be  affected  by  a  transition  from  one 
state  of  being  to  another,  none  of  them  will  touch 
the  great  elements  of  our  moral  nature. 

Now,  so  far  as  analogy  sheds  any  light  upon  this 
point,  its  teachings  are  in  precise  accordance  with 
the  revelation  of  the  Bible.  We  all  know  that 
there  is  a  certain  illusion  attaching  itself  to  every 
thing  future  and  untried.  When  we  look  forward 
to  some  great  change  in  our  outward  condition,  we 
are  apt  to  suppose,  that  though  we  may  personally 
remain  the  same,  there  will  be  a  great  and  essential 
alteration  in  our  modes  of  feeling,  habits  of  thought, 


THE    LIFE    TO    COME.  199 

tastes,  and  sentiments.  Take,  for  example,  boy 
hood's  anticipations  of  manhood,  or  the  anticipations 
of  manhood  respecting  declining  years ;  and  yet,  as 
we  have  reached  these  different  stages  of  our  exist 
ence,  we  have  discovered  the  illusion ;  our  modes 
of  life,  our  relations,  all  our  outward  circumstances 
have  been  changed,  but  our  moral  consciousness  is 
the  same ;  the  passion  which  prompted  us  before 
prompts  us  still ;  the  appetite  which  swayed  us  be 
fore  sways  us  still ;  the  characteristics  of  manhood 
are  the  characteristics  of  our  boyish  days,  brought 
out  more  distinctly  ;  and  old  age,  in  this  respect,  is 
but  manhood  developed ;  and  analogy  and  Scrip 
ture  unite  in  showing  us  a  great  principle  of  con 
tinuity  running  between  the  present  and  the  future, 
in  declaring  that  the  law  which  binds  the  different 
stages  of  human  life  into  one  and  the  same  earthly 
existence,  binds  "  the  life  which  now  is"  and  "  the 
life  which  is  to  come"  in  one  continuous,  unchang 
ing,  uninterrupted  being. 

But  while  we  are  dwelling  upon  this  moral  same 
ness  between  the  present  and  the  future,  let  it  be 
remembered  that  we  are  speaking  of  a  sameness  of 
character,  not  of  degree.  We  draw  from  the 
teaching  of  the  Bible  that  hereafter  there  will  be  a 
greater  fixedness  of  sentiments,  a  fuller  expansion 
of  the  moral  powers,  and  a  more  intense  action  and 
excitement  of  the  passions.  We  are  all  aware  now, 
that  our  principles  act  themselves  out  as  our  sphere 
enlarges ;  feeling  becomes  deeper  and  stronger  as 
our  capabilities  of  endurance  increase.  The  child, 
the  youth,  would  be  paralyzed  and  crushed  by  the 


200  THE    LIFE   TO    COME. 

intense  thought  and  emotion  easily  sustained  by 
riper  years  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  as  we  advance 
in  life,  not  only  are  our  powers  of  endurance 
stronger,  but  our  range  of  action  is  widened. 

Now,  we  are  all  aware,  that  in  "  the  life  which 
now  is,"  there  is  a  check  put  upon  all  our  emotions ; 
love,  joy,  anger,  hatred,  fear,  cannot  pass  beyond  a 
certain  point  of  intensity.  They  are  sometimes 
arrested  in  their  rapid  rising  by  the  incidents  or 
interests  of  common  life ;  or  when  this  is  not  the 
case,  there  is  a  limitation  put  upon  them  by  the 
weakness  of  our  physical  powers.  When  they  go 
beyond  a  certain  point  they  bring  on  exhaustion, 
which  warns  us  of  the  peril  of  indulgence.  It  is 
with  the  noblest  sentiments  as  with  the  most 
malign  passions,  we  feel  that  they  are  thus  hamp 
ered  and  kept  down ;  we  dare  not  let  them  move 
the  soul  as  they  might  move  it,  because  they  would 
rend  the  system  and  break  it  into  fragments.  We 
know,  moreover,  that  the  peril  of  these  excitements 
grows  out  of  the  frailty  of  this  physical  organisa 
tion.  And  if  here  in  this  world,  as  man  advances 
from  the  feebleness  of  youth  to  the  strength  of 
maturity,  sentiment  grows  and  passions  become 
stronger,  why  may  we  not  suppose  that  "  in  the 
life  to  come,"  when  all  the  prudential  considerations 
of  this  life  shall  cease  to  affect  us,  and  the  frailties 
and  feebleness  of  this  physical  frame  shall  no 
longer  hamper  and  fetter  us,  the  soul  may  take  its 
fill  of  emotion,  and  feeling,  and  passion,  rise  to  a 
pitch  of  excitement  of  which  in  our  present  circum 
stances  we  cannot  form  the  remotest  conception  ? 


THE   LITE   TO    COME.  201 

It  is  a  thrilling  thought  to  the  Christian,  whose  great 
moral  characteristic  is  the  love  of  God,  that  he  cannot 
tell  what  in  his  pure  and  holy  emotions  he  shall  be  ; 
that  in  the  intensity  of  them  he  may  rise  higher 
and  higher,  and  be  lost  in  God  himself.  It  is  a 
thought  of  terror  to  the  slave  of  carnal  desire,  that 
whatever  may  be  the  master  passion  which  now 
sways  him,  it  will  completely  engross  him ;  and 
when  all  its  present  checks  and  hindrances  shall  be 
removed,  it  will  hurry  him  away  with  a  fury  irre 
sistible,  and  a  rapidity  of  which  the  lightning's 
march  is  but  a  feeble  symbol.  Yes,  "  the  life  which 
is  to  come"  will  be  but  the  full  development  of 
"  the  life  which  is." 

III.  The  foregoing  is  one  of  the  scriptural  ideas 
respecting  our  future  state,  which  we  find  to  be 
sustained  by  familiar  analogies.  There  is  another, 
viz. : — That  while  we  shall  be  the  same  beings,  so 
far  as  our  moral  consciousness  is  concerned,  the 
materials  of  thought,  the  objects  which  shall  excite 
the  passions  and  determine  the  experience  shall  be 
the  same.  It  is  a  common-sense  thought  that  if 
there  is  to  be  a  retributive  economy,  our  feeling 
now,  and  our  doing  now,  will  determine  its  nature ; 
and  hence  there  always  has  been  an  impression 
upon  the  human  mind  that  the  feelings  we  cherish 
now,  and  the  acts  we  perform  now,  are  in  some 
way  or  form  to  be  reproduced  hereafter,  to  tell 
upon  our  experience.  The  joy  which  springs  from 
a  consciousness  of  right,  is  as  truly,  to  a  certain  ex 
tent,  an  anticipated  joy,  as  is  the  pain  of  sin  the  re 
sult  in  a  great  measure  of  apprehension.  We  feel 


202  THE    LIFE   TO    COME. 

every  day  that  the  influence  of  our  every  day 
actions  does  not  terminate  with,  themselves,  and 
with  the  moment  of  their  performance.  We  may 
for  the  time  forget  them,  but  we  know  that  they 
must  rise  from  the  oblivion  into  which  we  throw 
them,  and  work  out  their  results.  The  very  idea 
of  retribution,  the  declaration  that  every  man  shall 
eat  of  the  fruit  of  his  doings,  and  that  "  God  will 
render  to  every  man  according  to  his  work,"  in 
volves  this  consideration.  Hence  these,  our  daily 
feelings,  our  daily  actions,  are  to  be  the  topics  of 
thought,  and  the  motives  of  feeling  hereafter. 
The  present  is  the  great  store-house  of  the  future, 
wherein  we  are  laying  up  the  elements  of  our 
future  experience.  Our  emotions  in  "  the  life  to 
come,"  whether  present  or  prospective,  shall  exist 
in  view  of  the  past.  The  remembrance  of  "the  life 
which  now  is,"  will  be  distinct  and  familiar ;  and 
memory,  as  it  calls  up  each  event,  each  feeling,  each 
action,  will,  according  as  those  feelings  and  actions 
have  been  agreeable  to,  or  at  variance  with  the  will 
of  God,  administer  to  our  joy  or  fill  us  with  remorse. 
It  is  so  partially  in  the  different  stages  of  our  present 
existence.  How  do  certain  actions  we  have  per 
formed,  follow  us,  and  follow  us  continually  with 
their  influence,  as  though  God  would  teach  us,  in 
the  very  nature  he  has  given  us,  that  righteousness 
must  bring  its  own  reward,  and  sin  its  own  punish 
ment.  How  do  the  follies  <and  wickednesses  of 
boyhood  rise  up  and  torment  us  in  after  years,  and 
make  us  feel  that  then  we  were  filling  up  sources 
of  grief  we  are  now  called  to  exhaust  ?  And  why 


THE    LIFE   TO    COME.  203 

should  not  the  actions  of  "  the  life  which  is"  rising 
up  to  distinct  remembrance,  when  memory  shall  be 
strengthened,  as  well  as  all  the  other  powers,  for  ever 
the  sources  of  our  highest  joy,  or  the  instruments  of 
our  deepest  and  most  intolerable  anguish,  in  "  the 
life  which  is  to  come."  Why  not  ?  The  Bible 
says  that  such  will  be  the  case ;  who  can  furnish 
an  analogy  to  justify  even  the  slightest  doubt  ? 
No,  my  brethren ;  we  never  can  get  rid  of  the  in 
fluence  of  the  present  upon  us,  and  that  because 
we  never  can  destroy  the  present.  What  we  have 
done,  and  what  we  are  doing,  remains,  and  ever 
will  remain.  In  the  moral  world,  as  in  the  physi 
cal,  "  no  motion  impressed  by  natural  causes,  or  by 
human  agency,  is  ever  obliterated."  The  sentiment 
is  most  clearly  and  strikingly  presented  by  the 
author  of  the  "  Ninth  Bridge  water  Treatise,"  (Bab- 
bage),  and  it  bears  so  directly  on  the  point  before 
us,  that  you  will  allow  me  to  call  to  it  your  atten 
tion.  I  quote  the  sentiment  from  memory,  without 
pledging  the  correctness  of  the  language.  "  What 
a  strange  thing  is  this  wide  atmosphere  we  breathe. 
Every  atom  impressed  with  good  and  with  ill,  re 
tains  the  motions  which  have  been  imparted  to  it 
by  the  will,  combined  and  mixed  in  ten  thousand 
ways,  with  much  that  is  worthless  and  base.  The 
air  itself  is  a  vast  library,  on  whose  pages  are  for 
ever  written  all  that  man  has  ever  said,  or  ever 
whispered  ;  there,  mixed  with  the  earliest,  as  well 
as  latest  sorrows  of  mortality,  stand  for  ever  re 
corded,  vows  unredeemed,  promises  unfulfilled,  per 
petuating  the  testimony  to  human  character.  If 


204  THE    LIFE   TO    COME. 

God  stamped  upon  the  brow  of  the  earliest  mur 
derer,  the  visible  and  indelible  mark  of  his  guilt, 
he  has  also  established  laws  by  which  every  suc 
ceeding  criminal  is  not  less  irrevocably  chained  to 
the  testimony  of  his  crime,  for  every  atom  of  his 
mortal  frame,  through  whatever  changes  its  several 
particles  may  migrate,  will  still  retain,  adhering  to 
it  through  every  combination,  some  movement  de 
rived  from  that  very  muscular  effort  by  which  the 
crime  itself  was  perpetrated." 

And  now,  my  brethren,  if  this  sentiment  be  cor 
rect,  and  it  is  in  accordance  with  the  teachings  of  the 
soundest  human  philosophy,  if  our  words  and  actions 
make  such  permanent  and  indelible  impressions 
upon  this  physical  system  to  which  we  belong,  im 
pressions  which  will  last  while  the  system  lasts ; 
must  not  the  same  thing  be  analogously  true  of  the 
spiritual  system,  that  in  whatever  part  of  God's 
universe  we  may  be,  we  shall  meet  perpetually  the 
impressions  of  our  spiritual  doings,  which  as  seen 
in  God's  light  shall  awaken  within  us  emotions  of 
intensest  joy,  or  of  the  keenest  and  bitterest  re 
morse. 

My  subject,  I  find,  has  so  expanded,  that  its  com 
pass  cannot  be  travelled  within  the  time  I  have 
allotted  to  it  on  the  present  occasion.  I  will  here, 
therefore,  arrest  it,  and  without  anticipating  the 
main  results  which  I  have  in  view,  and  which  here 
after  I  may  bring  out,  I  will  simply  ask  my 
hearers,  in  view  of  what  I  have  advanced,  what 
they  think  of  "  the  life  which  is  to  come,"  and  what 
kind  of  a  life  they  have  reason  to  suppose  it  will 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  205 

be  to  them  ?  There  is  not  one  of  us  who  does  not 
carry  about  with  him  the  materials  of  its  rational 
answer  in  the  thoughts  he  entertains,  the  desires 
he  cherishes,  the  passions  he  indulges  ;  there  is  not 
one  of  us  who  has  not  been  busy  for  years,  who  is  not 
busy  now  in  making  and  describing  his  own  futu 
rity.  Go  then  into  your  own  bosom,  my  hearer, 
and  ask  yourself  what  you  think  of  an  eternity  of 
the  thoughts,  the  purposes,  and  aims  which  now 
belong  to  you  ?  What  would  you  think  of  an  eter 
nity  of  the  same  passions  which  now  urge  you 
along,  only  excited  to  a  burning  intensity  of  which 
you  can  now  form  no  conception  ?  What  will  your 
present  course  say,  what  will  be  the  testimony 
of  present  influence,  when  every  where  eternally  it 
shall  be  seen  in  the  impressions  it  has  made,  and  in 
the  character  and  experience  of  those  upon  whom 
it  has  acted  ? 

Well,  whatever  you  may  think  of  it,  remember 
that  you  are  standing  upon  the  verge  of  a  life  where 
you  will  be  for  ever  what  you  are  now.  Where 
you  will  feel  towards  God  as  you  now  feel  towards 
him  ;  a  Christian  then  if  a  Christian  now ;  a  rebel 
then  if  a  rebel  now.  There  will  be  no  changes. 
He  that  is  holy  shall  be  holy  still ;  and  he  that  is 
filthy  shall  be  filthy  still ;  rising  in  holiness,  or 
sinking  in  degradation  for  ever.  Are  you  pre 
pared  for  "  the  life  which  is  to  come  ?"' 


PREPARATION  FOR  "THE  LIFE  WHICH  IS  TO  COME," 
HEAVEN. 


"  Say  ye  to  the  righteous,  that  it  shall  be  well  with  him ;  for  they 
shall  eat  the  fruit  of  their  doings  :  Woe  unto  the  wicked,  it  shall  be 
ill  with  him  ;  for  the  reward  of  his  hands  shall  be  given  him." — ISAIAH 
iii.  10, 11. 

TIIEEE  is,  according  to  the  common  apprehension 
of  mankind,  a  mysterious  but  real  and  indissoluble 
link,  binding  together  the  present  and  the  future. 
It  is  not  an  intellectual  conviction,  the  result  of 
any  process  of  reasoning,  but  a  feeling,  deep-seated 
in  the  soul,  originating,  if  we  may  judge  from  its 
depth  and  power,  in  a  necessity  of  nature.  It  is 
an  irrepressible,  uncontrollable,  governing  feeling 
of  the  human  mind.  In  fact,  my  brethren,  we  are 
perpetually  living  in  the  future.  Our  places  and 
purposes  to-day,  derive  their  meaning  from  the  ex 
pected  developments  of  to-morrow ;  and  the  joys 
which  gladden,  and  the  sorrows  which  afflict  us, 
stripped  of  all  reference  to  the  future,  would  be 
stripped  likewise  of  their  elevating  and  depressing 
power.  That  future,  moreover,  upon  which  we  dwell 
so  much,  is  in  our  apprehension,  in  a  great  mea 
sure  wrapped  up  in  the  present.  As  we  are  here 


THE    LIFE    TO    COME. 

to-day,  we  do  not  feel  more  certainly  that  the  past 
has  determined,  while  it  has  furnished  the  elements 
of  our  present  consciousness,  than  that  the  present 
will  give  character  to  the  experience  of  to-morrow ; 
in  fact,  throwing  out  of  our  calculation  unfore 
seen  contingencies,  and  supposing  that  all  things 
will  go  on  in  accordance  with  the  regular  and 
established  laws  of  cause  and  effect,  we  have 
no  other  idea  than  that  to-morrow  will  be  in 
its  views  and  feelings  but  the  fuller  develop 
ment  of  to-day.  Now,  I  apprehend,  that  the  com 
mon  impression  of  the  human  mind  relative  to  the 
certainty  of  a  future  state,  is  but  a  modification  of 
this  same  feeling  of  which  we  have  been  speaking. 
The  same  law  of  our  nature  which  binds  together 
the  successive  stages  of  our  earthly  being,  binds 
together  "  the  life  which  is,"  and  "  the  life  which  is 
to  come."  The  ongoing  of  the  human  mind  is  not 
arrested  by  the  thought  of  death.  True,  that 
event  is  seen  to  separate  between  us  and  the 
scenes  which  are  beyond  it,  but  it  does  not  shut 
those  scenes  from  the  view.  There  they  are,  in  all 
their  reality,  in  all  their  glory,  or  in  all  their  ter 
ror  ;  and  though  there  is  a  dark  valley  between, 
which  shows  to  sense  no  pathway,  and  over  which 
we  know  not  how  we  shall  travel,  yet  there  is  a 
feeling  which  cannot  be  reasoned  down,  that  in 
some  way  we  shall  cross  it,  and  mingle  in  the 
scenes  which  are  beyond. 

This  feeling,  I  imagine,  goes  still  farther.  It 
infers  not  only  the  reality  of  the  future  from  the 
reality  of  the  present,  but  the  experiences  of  the 


208  PKEPAKATIOtf    FOE 

future  from  the  character  and  doings  of  the  pre 
sent.  We  can  no  more  get  rid  of  the  idea  of  a 
correspondence  between  that  which  is,  'and  that 
which  is  to  be,  than  we  can  get  rid  of  a  cer 
tain  hereafter ;  here  is  the  commencement,  there 
the  consummation  ;  this  is  the  seed  time,  that  is  the 
harvest ;  here  we  have  the  blade,  and  the  ear,  there 
we  shall  have  the  full  corn  in  the  ear.  Every  one 
who  carefully  analyses  the  workings  of  his  own 
mind,  will  discover  that  the  power  of  right  doing 
to  gladden  the  soul  does  not  spring  more  from  its 
own  intrinsic  nature,  than  from  a  connection  be 
tween  it  and  future  results ;  and  crime  pains,  and 
tasks,  and  hardens  the  spirit,  not  simply  on  account 
of  its  essentially  debasing  influences,  but  also,  be 
cause  it  is  felt  to  be  connected  with  a  certain  com 
ing  remorse. 

Such  are  the  natural  feelings  of  man  as  God 
made  him ;  and  every  human  being  will  feel  thus 
when  he  allows  nature  to  have  free  play ;  and  I 
need  not  say  how  exactly  they  tally  with  the  dis 
closures  of  revelation ;  and  I  come  this  morning  to 
set  these  forecastings  of  the  human  mind  in  the 
light  of  revelation,  to  give  them  their  proper 
direction,  and  point  out  their  appropriate  use. 

The  main  thought  upon  whiqji  I  design  to  insist 
is  that  suggested  by  my  text ;  viz.,  that  righteous 
ness  and  wickedness  work  out  their  own  appro 
priate  results  ;  that  the  present  is  a  world  of  disci 
pline  for  the  future,  wherein  man  is  preparing  for 
the  scenes  in  which  he  is  to  mingle ;  that  results  are 
to  accord  with  character,  as  the  nature  of  the  har- 


THE   LIFE    TO    COME.  209 

vest  agrees  with,  the  seed  sown,  and  every  one's 
future  experiences  will  correspond  with  the  moral 
training  to  which  he  here  subjects  himself. 

We  have  a  double  picture  then  to  present  to 
you,  as  the  discipline  of  the  Christian  and  the  course 
of  the  sinner  shall  be  seen  in  connection  with  their 
respective  necessary  results. 

I.  I  begin  with  the  Christian,  and  from  the  les 
sons  he  is  taught,  and  the  discipline  to  which  he 
is  subjected  in  the  school  of  his  Master,  endeavour 
to  prefigure  his  destiny.  The  Christian  life  has 
two  great  characteristics.  It  is  a  life  of  faith  ;  and 
herein  it  stands  diF  cinguished  from  the  life  of  uncon 
verted  man,  which  is  a  life  of  sense.  It  is  a  life  of 
usefulness,  and  herein  it  likewise  stands  distin 
guished  from  the  life  of  unconverted  man,  which  in 
the  ends  it  contemplates  is  regulated  by  a  principle 
of  selfishness.  I  need  hardly  say  to  my  hearers, 
that  the  essential  element  of  all  spiritual  Christi 
anity  is  confidence  in  God ;  for  "  whatsoever  is  not 
of  faith  is  sin."  Human  apostacy  began  at  this  very 
point,  a  distrust  of  the  character  and  word  of  the 
living  God,  and  ever  since,  man  has  walked  in  the 
ways  of  folly  and  of  transgression,  only  as  he  has 
given  himself  up  to  the  control  and  guidance  of 
"an  evil  heart  of  unbelief."  To  bring  him  back  to 
the  exercise  of  a  child-like  reliance  upon  his  Hea 
venly  Father  is  the  design  of  the  gospel ;  and 
one  great  object  of  all  God's  providential  dispen 
sations  toward  hh  children  is  to  develope  more 
and  more  this  spirit  of  confidence  in  himself.  The 
very  first  step  a  man  takes  in  a  Christian  life  is  a 
14 


210  PEEPAEATION   FOB 

step  of  faith,  as  he  renounces  all  self-dependence, 
and  throws  himself  upon  Jesus  Christ  in  simple  re 
liance  upon  the  word  and  testimony  of  God ;  and 
as  he  moves  on  thereafter,  he  "  walks  by  faith  and 
not  by  sight."     The  circumstances  in  which  he  is 
placed,  the  trials  he  is  called  to  meet,  the  duties  he 
is  called  to  discharge,  compel  him  to  look  out  of 
himself  for  direction  ;  force  him  to  fly  to  the  rock 
which  is  higher  than  himself,  and  to  lean  upon  the 
promise  of  Almighty  strength.     It  is  not,  indeed, 
without  evidence  that  he  is  called  to  believe ;  not 
without  manifestations   of  kindness,  which   alone 
warrant  trust.     The  first  act  of  faith  which  belongs 
to  a  man,  as  he  casts  himself  upon  the  promise  of 
forgiveness  in  the  gospel,  is  put  forth  in  view  of 
God's  unspeakable  love  in  Christ  Jesus ;  and  day  by 
day  his  confidence  is  strengthened  by  displays  of 
goodness,  seen  in  the  present  or   called  up  from 
among  the  remembrances  of  the  past.     It  is  the 
discipline  of  faith  to  which  the  Christian  is  sub 
jected  in  this  world  of  trial. 

So  likewise  is  he  taught  by  his  Master  to  look 
out  of  himself  for  the  objects  of  life.  The  scene  of 
the  world  around  us  is  a  scene  where  every  man  is 
describing  a  circle  of  which  he  himself  is  the  centre. 
Self-aggrandizement  is  the  great  end  of  human 
ambition.  Strip  any  object  of  its  relation  to  some 
selfish  desire  as  the  means  of  its  gratification,  and  to 
carnal  man  it  ceases  to  be  attractive ;  but  among 
the  first  lessons  which  a  man  is  taught  in  the 
school  of  Christ,  is  to  "  look  not  upon  his  own 
things,  but  also  upon  the  things  of  others."  u  If  ye 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  211 

love  them  which  love  you,  what  reward  have  ye  ;" 
and  "  if  ye  do  good  to  them  who  do  good  to  you , 
what  reward  have  ye,"  is  the  language  of  our  great 
Teacher  ;  and  "  ye  are  not  your  own,  for  ye  are 
bought  with  a  price,"  are  the  words  of  one  who  had 
learned,  and  was  exemplifying  in  his  life  the  great 
lesson  of  usefulness  which  his  Master  had  taught 
him.  And  here,  while  speaking  of  these  great  ele 
ments  of  the  Christian  character,  and  of  the  nature 
of  Christian  discipline,  let  me  observe  that  they  are 
no  more  strongly  contrasted  with  carnality  in  their 
nature  than  in  the  experience  which  accompanies 
them.  The  condition  of  a  man  who,  in  respect  to 
all  his  plans  and  movements,  his  hopes  and  joys,  is 
governed  by  sense,  cannot,  so  far  as  this  world  is 
concerned,  be  compared  in  point  of  happiness  with 
that  one  who  walks  by  faith.  Both  must  have 
their  trials,  in  view  of  those  developments  of  Pro 
vidence  which  neither  sense  nor  reason  can  ex 
plain  ;  but  the  one  has  resources  to  which  the  other 
is  entirely  a  stranger.  The  man  of  sight  is  not  only 
lost  amid  the  dark  intricacies  of  things,  but  he  has 
the  superadded  torment  arising  from,  his  inability 
to  unravel  or  enlighten  them ;  while  the  man  of 
faith  can  fall  back  upon  the  assurances  of  him  who 
cannot  lie,  and  stay  himself  upon  God,  under  the 
conviction  that  he  "  doeth  all  things  well."  Hence 
it  is,  that  amid  those  dark  scenes  of  our  earthly 
history,  where  the  carnal  spirit  is  completely  borne 
down  and  overwhelmed,  there  is  a  wonderful  elas 
ticity  about  the  mind  under  the  influence  of  faith ; 
and  when  the  former  is  most  distressed,  the  joys  of 


212  PREPARATION    FOR 

the  latter  do  most  abound.  In  fact,  so  far  as  the 
experience  of  the  mind  itself  is  concerned,  there  is 
no  true  happiness  in  many  cases  which  does  not 
spring  from  confidence  in  God. 

So,  likewise,  a  life  of  passionate  gratification  is  not 
to  be  compared  with  a  life  of  active  benevolence. 
God  has  so  constituted  our  nature,  that  a  man  cannot 
be  happy  unless  he  is,  or  thinks  he  is,  a  means  of 
good.  Judging  from  our  own  experience,  we  cannot 
conceive  of  a  picture  of  more  unutterable  wretched 
ness  than  is  furnished  by  one  who  knows  that  he  is 
wholly  useless  in  the  world.  Give  a  man  what  you 
please,  surround  him  with  all  the  means  of  gratifi 
cation,  and  yet  let  the  conviction  come  home  to 
him  clear  and  irresistible  that  there  is  not  a  being 
in  God's  universe  a  whit  the  better  or  happier  for 
his  existence ;  let  him  feel  that  he  is  thus  a  blot 
upon,  because  a  blank  in  the  universe,  and  the  uni 
verse  will  not  furnish  a  more  unhappy  being. 
Herein  lies  the  solution  of  that  to  many  inexplica 
ble  fact,  that  the  schemes  of  mere  selfishness,  how 
ever  wisely  laid,  however  energetically  and  success 
fully  prosecuted,  never  add  to  the  joys,  but  always 
to  the  pains  of  those  who  originate  and  are  engaged 
in  them.  It  is  not  so  with  a  man  of  opposite  cha 
racteristics.  Take  from  him  what  you  please,  and 
you  do  not  take  from  him  the  elements  of  his  joy, 
if  you  leave  him  the  conviction  that  in  any  way  he 
is  useful.  If  you  contract  the  circle,  and  diminish 
the  sphere  of  his  influence,  you  detract  from  his 
joy  only  as  you  detract  from  his  means  of  doing 
good.  And  as  we  cannot  conceive  of  a  more 


THE    LIFE   TO    COME.  213 

wretched  being  than  one  who  feels  himself  to  be 
the  slave  of  an  uncontrolled  selfishness,  so  we  can 
not  conceive  of  a  happier  being  than  a  man  of  truly 
benevolent  heart,  whose  wishes  describe  the  circle 
and  bound  the  sphere  of  his  influence,  and  whose 
means  are  ample  to  give  those  wishes  a  full  expres 
sion. 

The  disciple  of  Christ,  then,  is  one  who  in  this 
world  is  disciplined  in  the  school  of  his  master  to 
a  life  of  faith  and  usefulness.  Let  us  look  forward, 
then,  and  anticipate  the  future,  and  ascertain,  if 
possible,  what  kind  of  life  is  that  for  which  such  a 
discipline  will  prepare  one,  or  what  must  be  the 
experiences  of  one  thus  trained,  amid  the  circum 
stances  which  are  to  define  his  deathless  being. 

It  is  not  assuming  too  much  here  to  say,  that 

O  v    i 

the  correctness  of  many  of  our  views  of  "  the  life 
which  is  to  come,"  is  questionable ;  and  even 
where  our  views  are  correct,  generally  speaking, 
they  are  very  vague.  If  we  were  now  to  sit  down,  I 
mean  those  of  us  who  have  thought  most  upon  this 
subject,  and  analyze  our  ideas,  I  think  we  should 
be  surprised  at  the  indistinctness  of  our  own  con 
ceptions,  and  even  suspect  the  correctness  of 
those  which  are  perfectly  clear.  That  coming 
world  will  be  a  very  different  world  from  this. 
Upon  that  point  we  are  satisfied ;  but  wherein  will 
the  difference  consist  ?  is  the  question  which  is  to 
test  the  clearness  and  correctness  of  our  views. 
So  far  as  heaven  is  concerned,  it  is  very  easy  to 
eay,  that  there  will  be  no  sin  there,  and  of  course 


214  PBEPAEATION   FOE 

there  will  be  no  pain  there,  and  no  death  there. 
Very  true;  but  by  these  negative  assertions  we 
are  not  advanced  one  step  in  our  inquiry.  We 
have  learned  what  "  the  life  to  come"  is  not,  but 
we  wish  to  know  what  it  is. 

And  when  we  come  to  this  point,  the  very  first 
distinction  we  are  apt  to  make  between  the  present 
and  the  future  is,  that  while  this  world  is  a  world 
of  faith,  that  will  be  a  world  of  sight;  and  the 
second  is,  while  this  world  is  a  world  of  action  and 
toil,  that  will  be  a  world  of  rest  and  repose ;  and 
many  a  one  is  apt  to  think,  that  if  we  are  wrong 
here,  if  it  is  not  to  be  so,  that  when  we  enter  upon 
another  world,  everything  in  the  shape  of  mystery 
shall  be  gone  ;  if  then,  and  there,  we  shall  not  see 
all  things  clearly,  in  the  light  in  which  God  sees 
them,  with  a  kind  of  intuitive  perception  ;  if, 
moreover,  heaven  is  to  be  a  scene  of  ongoing  ac 
tivity,  of  ceaseless,  restless  effort,  it  would  be  strip 
ped  of  its  main  attractions  to  beings  who  like 
ourselves,  groping  amid  the  mysteries  of  God's  dis 
pensations,  and  wearied  by  the  greatness  of  their 
way,  are  awaiting,  in  hope,  the  full  revelation  of  all 
mysteries,  and  "  the  rest  which  remaineth  for  the 
people  of  God." 

Yet,  notwithstanding,  we  are  constrained  to 
think,  that  for  our  conception  here  of  heaven,  as  a 
world  of  sight,  we  are  more  indebted  to  the  Chris 
tian  poet,  who,  as  he  describes  the  Christian's  hope, 
speaks  of  it  as  a  world, 

"  Where  faith  is  sweetly  lost  in  sight," 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  215 

than  we  are  to  any  thing  we  find  upon  the  sacred 
page,  or  any  thing  we  learn  even  from  the  analogies 
of  things.  In  reality,  if  we  look  distinctly  at  this 
conception,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  very  hastily 
assumed,  and  never  can  be  made  good,  because  it 
contradicts  all  the  analogies  with  which  we  are 
familiar,  and  seems  to  involve  an  impossibility.  If 
the  enjoyments  of  the  coming  world  are  an  end, 
and  the  dispensations  of  Providence  towards  us 
here  are  means,  if  in  God's  arrangements  the  wide 
universe  through,  there  is  always  a  strict  corres 
pondence  between  means  and  ends,  then  is  this 
world  to  us  a  mystery,  if  the  discipline  of  faith  to 
which  we  here  are  subject,  is  not  designed  for  its 
higher  exercise,  in  that  other  world  into  which  we 
expect  to  be  introduced.  If  the  training  of  the 
present  life  has,  as  is  undoubtedly  the  fact,  a  refer 
ence  to  tc  the  life  which  is  to  come,"  such  a  refer 
ence,  that  it  may  be  justly  looked  upon  as  a  course 
of  education  for  the  future,  if  indeed  the  two  states 
of  being  are  so  alike  that  the  essential  elements  of 
the  one  may  be  said  to  be  wrapped  up  in  the  other, 
we  say  that  futurity,  whatever  it  may  be  in  other 
respects,  must  be  a  scene  where  the  qualities  and 
habits  to  which  we  have  been  trained  here,  shall 
be  called  into  exercise  and  even  set  to  work  more 
intensely  than  ever.  We  cannot  believe  it  any 
part  of  God's  arrangements  to  allow  the  fruits  of  a 
long  and  painful  culture  to  fall  to  the  earth  and 
perish,  at  the  moment  of  their  ripening.  Analogy 
then,  if  nothing  else,  teaches  us  that  the  future  will 
be  a  world  of  faith  as  well  as  the  present. 


216  PREPARATION   FOE 

But  further.  We  speak  of  God  as  the  unsearch 
able  God ;  one,  whose  movements,  because  they 
are  constructed  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  his 
own  infinite  perfections,  must  to  us  be  inscrutable ; 
whose  steps  must  be  in  the  dark,  and  whose  name 
must  be  "  mystery ;"  hence  the  necessity  of  faith  to 
such  creatures  as  we  are,  grows  out  of  the  limited 
nature  of  our  powers.  As  our  minds  cannot  take 
in  God's  designs  in  their  manifold  relations,  our 
reason  is  incompetent  to  explain  his  movements  in 
their  varied  bearings,  the  only  resource  left  to  us, 
is  implicit,  submissive  faith ;  we  must  lean  upon 
this  faith,  or  be  unutterably  wretched.  And  will 
the  disparity  between  the  finite  and  the  infinite 
ever  be  any  less  than  it  now  is  ?  Grant  what  you 
please  as  to  the  certain  advancement  of  the  human 
mind  in  knowledge,  and  goodness,  and  power,  it 
must  always  stand  at  a  measureless  remove  from 
the  infinite,  uncreated,  and  boundless  Spirit  upon 
whom  it  will  be  eternally  dependent.  There  are 
other  beings,  in  higher  and  purer  spheres,  far  more 
enlarged  than  ourselves  in.  their  views,  with  nobler 
powers,  and  grander  capacities  ;  and  we  may  reach 
their  position,  we  may  even  far  outstrip  them,  but 
the  interval  between  the  Creator  and  the  creature 
will  not  be  sensibly  lessened  by  this  wondrous, 
this  mighty  advancement.  God  will  always  be  the 
Unsearchable,  because  he  will  always  be  the  Infin 
ite  God.  Never,  never,  can  the  creature  measure 
or  grasp  his  character.  Never,  never,  can  he  be  at 
peace,  reach  what  point  he  may,  be  the  subject  of 
any,  however  great  mental  enlargement,  any  other- 


THE   LIFE    TO    COME.  21 T 

wise,  than  as  he  rests  in  God  with  a  spirit  of  sim 
ple,  childlike  confidence. 

And  if  we  never  can  fully  comprehend  God's 
attributes,  so  likewise  we  never  can  fully  compre 
hend  his  doings  in  which  those  attributes  are 
embodied.  Even  now  there  are  things  which  God 
has  already  done,  "  mysteries  of  godliness,"  into 
which  angels  "  who  excel  in  might"  are  prying 
with  eager  curiosity,  as  presenting  to  their  minds 
themes  which  they  must  study  attentively,  because 
they  have  not  yet  divined  their  meaning ;  and  we 
believe  there  will  yet  be,  in  the  progress  of  God's 
great  and  glorious  administration  of  the  universe, 
developments  of  his  nature  in  his  doings  which 
will  open  an  abyss  into  which  the  most  exalted 
mind  will  scarcely  dare  to  look,  but  from  the  edge 
of  which  he  will  shrink  back  to  find  his  peace  in 
the  exercise  of  simple  confidence  in  the  infinite 
one. 

Do  not,  my  brethren,  misunderstand  me  here, 
I  do  not  mean  to  convey  the  idea  that  we  shall 
never  know  any  thing  more  of  God,  or  of  his  do 
ings,  with  their  reasons  and  ends,  than  we  know 
now.  Far  from  it.  Pitiable,  indeed,  would  be  the 
prospect,  if  we  were  never  to  be  extricated  from 
the  difficulties  which  now  hamper  us,  if  we  were 
never  to  understand  any  more  of  the  dispensations 
which  now  try  us.  God  himself  has  pointed  to 
our  hope  a  very  different  prospect  from  this ;  he 
has  told  us  that  "  the  vision  is  but  for  an  appointed 
time,  in  the  end  it  will  speak  and  not  lie ;  if 
it  tarry,  wait  for  it ;"  and  the  Master  has  said, 


218  PEEPAEATION    FOB 

"  what  I  do  tliou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt 
know  hereafter."  There  is  a  day  coming  of 
divine  manifestation,  when  God  shall  make  things 
plain,  as  he  justifies  his  doings  by  unfolding 
their  reasons.  But  you  will  observe,  that  this  day 
of  divine  manifestation  is  to  bring  under  review 
only  the  doings  and  the  trials  of  the  past,  and  by 
no  means  involves  the  idea  that  the  entire  scheme 
of  God's  dispensations,  for  all  time  to  come,  shall 
be  spread  out  as  on  a  map  before  us.  No  such  sen 
timent  is  taught  either  directly  or  indirectly  upon 
the  sacred  page,  nor  can  it  be  inferred  from  any  of 
the  disclosures  which  are  here  made  to  us.  I  doubt 
not,  that  hereafter,  we  shall  see  clearly  the  way  by 
which  God  has  led  us  ;  and  every  dispensation  of 
his  Providence  toward  us,  which  at  the  time  tried 
our  spirits,  and  severely  taxed  our  faith  because  it 
was  inexplicable,  shall  be  fully  explained,  and  be 
come  a  source  of  thankfulness  and  joy,  as  its  wis 
dom  and  goodness  become  apparent,  in  view  of  the 
end  of  which  it  was  the  necessary  means.  I  doubt 
not,  moreover,  that  our  views  of  divine  truth  shall 
become  more  enlarged  and  distinct,  and  the  diffi 
culties  which  now  embarrass  us  when  we  attempt  to 
grasp  and  master  many  of  "the  deep  things  of 
God,"  shall  entirely  vanish  when  we  come  to  look 
at  them,  in  the  new  light  which  God  shall  pour 
upon  them ;  and  perhaps  we  shall  be  surprised  at 
the  simplicity  of  the  points  which  now  disturb  and 
even  stagger  us.  But  we  are  greatly  mistaken  if  we 
suppose  that  nothing  will  remain  to  exercise  our 
.faith  in  God.  As  the  traveller  who  in  his  journey 


THE   LITE    TO    COME.  219 

reaches  one  eminence  which  commands  the  road 
over  which  he  has  travelled,  sees  yet  another 
eminence  before  him,  so  we  believe  it  will  be  with 
us,  when  the  present  trials  of  our  faith  are  over. 
We  shall  be  ushered  into  other  scenes,  where  we 
shall  likewise  need  a  spirit  of  trustful  reliance,  and 
thus  the  vast  hereafter  which  stretches  itself  out 
before  us,  will  be  a  world  which  in  its  successive 
developments,  shall  call  us  to  live  by  faith,  and  its 
experience  shall  be  the  peace,  and  joy,  and  hope  of 
an  ever  exercised  and  ever  strengthening  confi 
dence  in  the  Father  of  our  spirits. 

In  throwing  out  these  views,  while  we  do  not 
imagine  for  a  moment,  that  there  will  be  connected 
with  the  exercise  of  our  faith  hereafter,  as  is 
now  the  case,  any  apprehension  of  loss  or  sorrow  of 
any  kind,  which  now,  in  fact,  gives  to  the  trials  of 
our  confidence  all  their  painfulness ;  we  have  reason 
to  believe  that  the  evidence  of  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  and  love  of  God  which  now  warrants  our 
faith  will  be  unfolded  to  us  in  grander  and  more 
glorious  discoveries,  to  correspond  with  the  higher 
exercise  of  faith  to  which  we  shall  be  called.  The 
light  which  seen  upon  one  eminence  of  our  journey 
charms  us  up  its  ascent,  will  seem  brighter  and  more 
charming  as  seen  upon  the  eminence  beyond.  The 
testimonies  to  the  character  of  our  heavenly  Father 
in  view  of  which  now  we  trust  him,  will  increase  in 
number  and  power,  and  inspire  us  with  all  the 
confidence  which  our  joy  requires  in  the  new  scenes 
upon  which  we  shall  be  ushered.  In  the  present 
life,  wo  find  that  the  difficulties  of  youth  preparo 


220  PREPARATION    FOB 

us  for  the  sterner  difficulties  of  manhood,  and  the 
labours  of  manhood  for  the  anxieties  of  age,  and  a 
well  spent  life  grows  happier  and  happier  even 
unto  the  end.  We  find  too  that  the  Christian  who 
walks  by  faith  as  he  moves  amid  the  perplexities 
and  trials  of  time,  grows  not  only  in  the  strength 
of  his  confidence  but  in  the  spiritual  joys  which 
are  inseparable  from  its  exercise ;  so  when  we  reach 
"  the  world  which  is  to  come,"  we  shall  find  that 
the  discipline  of  "  the  world  which  is,"  has  prepared 
us  for  its  scenes,  its  duties,  and  its  joys,  and  every 
successive  stage  of  that  coming  existence  will  be 
one  of  increasing  confidence,  and  increasing  hap 
piness. 

Then,  moreover,  is  the  other  view  of  the  nature 
of  the  discipline  to  which  God  is  subjecting  us  upon 
earth  to  be  added  to  this  one.  In  the  school  of 
Christ  we  are  trained  to  habits  of  active  usefulness, 
which  give  expression  to  that  benevolent  spirit 
which  religion  inspires ;  and  if  this  is  so  there  must 
be  something  hereafter  to  correspond  with  this 
discipline  as  its  necessary  and  appropriate  re 
sult.  I  do  not  know  that  any  one  intelligently 
entertains  the  sentiment,  but  there  is  a  very 
undefined  feeling  in  many  minds  that  when 
the  human  spirit  reaches  the  eternal  world  there 
will  remain  nothing  for  it  to  do.  To  the  sanc 
tified  it  is  a  world  of  rest,  the  happiness  of 
which  will  consist  in  pleasing  and  grateful  re 
collections,  in  adoring  admiration,  in  songs  of 
praise.  It  will  unquestionably  be  a  world  of  rest, 
but  not  a  world  of  inert  repose.  The  rest  of  the 


THE    LIFE    TO    COME.  221 

human  spirit  is  not  inaction,  but  right  action.  The 
most  restless  being  in  God's  universe,  is  he  who  has 
no  end  appropriate  to  his  powers  in  view  of  which 
to  work.  The  transition  from  the  present  to  the 
future,  is  not  to  be  a  destruction,  or  alteration,  but 
only  a  full  development  of  the  powers  of  our  na 
tures  ;  and  if  here  action  and  usefulness  are  essential 
to  happiness,  there  can  be  no  happiness  eternal, 
separate  from  eternal  usefulness.  The  government 
of  God  is  carried  on,  and  his  purposes  are  executed, 
as  we  learn  from  the  inspired  oracles,  and  from  the 
teachiugs  of  Providence,  by  intermediate  and  in 
strumental  agencies.  Men  are  his  instruments, 
"  angels  are  ministering  spirits  ;"  and  who  can 
doubt,  my  brethren,  that  God,  in  calling  us  here  to 
be  co-workers  with  himself  in  carrying  out  his  de 
signs,  in  giving  us  our  spheres  of  duty  and  useful 
ness,  in  throwing  upon  us  responsibilities  which 
our  own  peace  of  mind  requires  us  to  meet  and  dis 
charge,  is  preparing  us  for  the  higher  position  we 
shall  be  called  to  occupy,  and  the  nobler,  grander 
parts  we  shall  be  called  to  act  in  his  coming  king 
dom.  It  is  a  hard  and  rugged  path,  which  man  is 
sometimes  called  to  tread  in  early  life — painful 
and  toilsome  are  his  acquisitions  of  knowledge, 
severe  the  discipline  to  which  he  must  subject  his 
active  and  ambitious  mind,  but  the  mysteries  of 
God's  providence  towards  him  are  all  explained, 
when  in  after  life  you  see  him  towering  high  above 
his  fellows,  describing  a  wide  circle  of  influence, 
and  wielding  a  mighty  power.  He  had  never  been 
fitted  for  his  place,  never  had  reached  his  eminence, 


222  PEEPAEATION    FOB 

but  for  his  previous  discipline  and  toil ;  and  for  the 
most  part  the  men  who  take  the  lead  in  life,  who 
give  shape  to  earthly  movements,  and  direction  to 
the  current  of  human  things,  are  men  who  have 
been  schooled  in  scenes  of  difficulty,  and  whose 
upward  and  onward  strugglings,  as  they  have  de 
veloped  the  powers  of  their  minds,  have  prepared 
them  for  the  relations  they  sustain,  and  rightly 
to  use  the  influence  they  have  gained.  And  do 
you  not  suppose  that  God  has  something  for  us  to 
do  hereafter,  and  that  by  calling  us  to  duty  now, 
he  is  training  us  for  usefulness  then  ?  Verily  do  we 
believe  that  there  will  be  posts  in  that  upper  world 
to  which  nothing  but  a  previous  life  of  usefulness 
will  fit  one.  Verily  do  we  believe  that  there  will 
be  services  demanded  there,  which  will  utterly 
baffle  the  skill,  as  they  will  surpass  the  capacities 
of  those  who  have  never  been  trained  to  service 
here.  Every  man  will  there  have  his  place  and 
his  sphere,  but  it  will  be  the  place  or  the  sphere 
for  which  his  previous  course  has  fitted  him ;  and 
so  surely  as  "  every  man  is  to  be  rewarded  accord 
ing  to  his  works,"  so  surely  as  "  one  star  differeth 
from  another  star  in  glory,"  so  surely  in  that  future 
world  there  will  be  elevated  positions,  which  are 
to  be  reached  only  by  those  who  have  already 
learned  to  soar  high,  and  wonderful  advantages, 
which  shall  belong  only  to  those  who  have  here 
been  taught  how  to  reap  them. 

There  is  something,  moreover,  in  the  nature  of 
goodness,  in  its  expansive  tendency,  which  seems  to 
demand  a  sphere  for  its  developement.  Some  there 


THE   LIFE   TO    COME.  223 

are,  even  in  this  world,  wlio  feel  that  life  has  its 
joys  only  as  it  has  its  duties ;  and  they  would  as 
soon  cease  to  live  as  cease  to  be  useful ;  and  this 
spirit  the  gospel  has  implanted  in  the  hearts  of  all 
its  subjects.  Goodness,  benevolence,  is  the  essential 
element  of  the  Christian  life.  It  may  be  only  like 
the  blade  springing  out  of  the  ground,  but  it  grows 
by  culture,  and  if  God's  arrangements  are  carried 
out,  there  will  be  as  certainly  "  the  ear,"  and  "  the 
full  corn  in  the  ear ;"  and  oh  !  what  kind  of  a 
world  would  that  be,  so  far  as  happiness  is  con 
cerned,  where  there  would  be  no  field  of  usefulness, 
which  would  afford  no  room  for  the  outgoing  and 
expansion  of  this  benevolent  spirit  ?  Just  as  cer 
tainly  as  that  yearning  after  immortality  which 
God  has  incorporated  among  the  elements  of  our 
nature,  demands  an  immortality  to  meet  it,  does 
that  benevolence  which  the  Spirit  of  God  has 
implanted  in  every  Christian  heart,  demand  that 
there  shall  be  an  immortality  of  usefulness,  in  order 
to  an  immortality  of  happiness. 

At  this  point,  my  brethren,  I  must  again  crave 
your  indulgence.  I  cannot  compass  my  whole  de 
sign  in  this  discourse.  I  have  yet  the  other  side  of 
the  picture  to  present  to  you  before  I  have  finished 
my  general  view  of  "  the  life  which  is  to  come ;" 
but  upon  the  strength  of  what  I  have  thus  far  ad 
vanced,  I  may  ask  my  hearers  if  the  thoughts  I 
have  thrown  out,  do  not  cast  an  entirely  new  and 
exceeding  interesting  light  upon  "  the  life  which 
now  is."  There  is  a  very  common  feeling,  I  am 
persuaded,  that  it  would  be  better  that  a  Christian 


224  PEEPAEATION    FOE 

man  should  be  at  once  translated  to  heaven,  than 
that  he  should  be  left,  if  I  may  so  speak,  to  work 
his  way  there  through  a  world  of  trial  and  sorrow, 
of  difficulty  and  toil.    It  would  not,  indeed,  be  better 
for  the  world,  because  it  would  remove  all  its  light 
and  take  away  all  its  salt.     Neither  would  it  be 
better  for  a  man,  so  far  as  his  earthly  interests  and 
relations  are  concerned.     In  this  respect,  the  Chris 
tian  has  as  strong  reasons  for  life  as  any  other  man ; 
but  so  far  as  regards  his  spiritual  relations  and  future 
rewards,  it  would  be  better  for  himself  personally 
that  he  should  be  taken  to  heaven  the  moment 
heaven  is  sure.     But  there  is  a  sad  misconception 
here.     The  Bible  tells  us  that  "  it  is  good  for  a 
man  to  wait  for  the  salvation  of  God."     It  tells  us 
that  the  trials  which  beset  us  here  "  work  out  for 
us  a  far  more  exceeding  and   eternal  weight   of 
glory  ;"  and  they  do  so,  by  training  us  to  bear  it. 
We  wonder  that  God  calls  men  to  such  severe  trials 
of  their   faith.     But   why   is   it   but   to   prepare 
them  for  the  higher  and  nobler  exercises  of  faith 
to  which  they  shall  be  called  hereafter,  and  to 
which  they  would  be  wholly  incompetent,  but  for 
their  previous  discipline  in  a  school  of  affliction. 
Here  you  see  what  trials  mean.     Each  one  of  them 
prepares  us  for  a  still  higher  spot  and  for  a  richer 
crown.     And  every  one  of  us  shall  find  hereafter, 
that  God  did  not  tax  us  too  often  or  too  severely. 
Every  lesson  which  we  learn  here,  every  lesson  of 
confidence  and  submission,  shall  come  into  full  play 
and  do  its  part  in  fitting  us  for  our  work  and  ad 
ministering  to  our  joy.     We  shall  then  see  that  not 


THE    LIFE   TO    COME.  225 

one  of  them  could  have  been  spared  without  pro- 
portionably  detracting  from  our  portion.  We  may 
depend  upon  it,  if  God  means  to  raise  us  to  honor 
and  nobility  hereafter,  he  will  prepare  us  for  our 
reward  now ;  and  then  "  the  trial  of  our  faith  shall 
be  found  unto  praise,  and  honor,  and  glory." 

So  too  with  regard  to  those  scenes  of  active  use 
fulness  in  which  we  are  placed,  and  the  duties  we 
are  called  to  discharge.  They  are  none  too  many ; 
in  view  of  "  the  life  which  is  to  come,"  I  had  almost 
said  that  God  cannot  put  upon  us  too  many,  or 
too  weighty  responsibilities.  The  more  we  do,  the 
brighter  does  our  reward  sparkle  with  the  splen 
dours  of  eternity.  Every  duty  we  faithfully  dis 
charge  does  but  put  another  plume  in  our  angel's 
wing,  another  jewel  in  our  seraph's  crown.  Every 
effort  we  make,  every  responsibility  we  meet,  every 
act  of  goodness  we  perform,  does  but  fix  our  place 
the  higher  in  the  scale  of  majesty  and  triumph. 
In  view  of  that  reward  which  shall  be  according  to 
every  man's  works,  we  have  none  too  much  of 
labour,  none  too  much  of  toil ;  our  future  recom 
pense  requires  it  all.  Oh  !  let  us  not,  my  brethren, 
shun  duties,  however  painful  and  self-sacrificing 
they  may  be ;  let  us  not  shut  ourselves  out  from, 
or  seek  to  avoid  spheres  of  usefulness  in  the  world. 
If  we  do  we  shall  find  that  by  our  short-sighted 
calculations  we  have  missed  noble  and  glorious 
things,  and  have  failed  to  reach  some  high  point  in 
the  kingdom  which  we  might  have  occupied.  We 
may  make  the  discovery  when  it  is  too  late.  If  we 
are  Christians  we  shall  make  it,  if  not  before,  in  our 
15 


326  THE   LITE   TO    COME. 

dying  hour.  When  we  come  to  stand  on  the  top  of 
some  Pisgah  which  overlooks  the  past,  as  well 
as  the  future,  then  lost  opportunities  of  usefulness 
will  be  seen  as  so  much  taken  from  our  coming 
joy ;  and  in  that  moment,  while  the  firmament  is 
bright  with  the  dawning  of  heaven,  and  the  music 
of  the  spheres  is  already  heard,  while  the  spirit  is 
pluming  its  wing  for  its  flight,  if  there  shall  be  a 
wish  to  put  a  check  upon  it,  and  rebuke  its  eager 
ness  to  be  gone,  it  will  be  a  wish  not  concerning 
earthly  things  or  earthly  friends,  but  it  will  be  a 
wish  to  live  a  little  longer,  that  we  might  labour  a 
little  more  for  Christ  and  for  good  in  this  world, 
Let  us  be  instructed  by  these  thoughts :  "  Walk  ye 
by  faith,  and  not  by  sight."  Be  steadfast,  immov 
able,  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord  ; 
for  as  much  as  ye  know  that  your  labour  is  not  in 
vain  in  the  Lord." 


THE  DAY  OF  GRACE. 


"  And  when  he  was  come  near,  he  beheld  the  city  and  wept  over  it, 
saying,  if  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the 
things  which  belong  unto  thy  peace  !  but  now,  they  are  hid  from  thine 
eyes." — ST.  LUKE  xix.  41,  42. 

TirE  scene,  my  brethren,  which  the  language  of 
the  text  pourtrays,  is  not  more  touching,  than  are 
the  principles  which  it  involves,  important.  We 
behold  the  Son  of  God  in  tears.  The  fact  derives 
its  peculiar  interest  from  the  circumstances  in  which 
he  was  placed,  and  the  influences  which  seem  to 
have  unmanned  him.  It  would  not  have  been  at 
all  surprising  had  the  "  man  of  sorrows  and  ac 
quainted  with  grief,"  been  thus  deeply  affected  in 
view  of  "  the  hour  and  power  of  darkness,"  the 
garden  and  the  cross,  which  were  just  before  him ; 
but  however  he  may  have  felt  at  times  in  reference 
to  his  coming  and  distinctly  apprehended  trials, 
they  were  not  now  sorrows  of  a  private  or  per 
sonal  nature  which  stirred  his  strong  emotions  and 

O 

compelled  his  tears.  He  is,  at  the  present  time,  in 
the  midst  of  his  greatest  earthly  triumphs;  about 
to  make  his  public  entry  into  Jerusalem,  surrounded 
by  an  admiring  multitude,  and  heralded  by  thou- 


228  THE   DAT   OF   GEACE. 

sands,  who  shout  "  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David." 
He  has  reached  the  brow  of  Mount  Olivet,  and  be 
neath  him  lies  spread  out  in  all  its  extent  and  mag 
nificence,  the  city  he  was  approaching ;  and  as  his 
eye  rested  upon  Jerusalem,  he  thought  of  it  as  the 
scene  of  his  public  ministrations  and  his  most  splen 
did  miracles,  as  the  city  whose  inhabitants  he  had  so 
often  taught,  so  faithfully  warned,  so  marvellously 
blessed;  and  yet,  Jerusalem,  uninstructed,  unre 
claimed,  unmoved,  and  now  abandoned  of  Him 
whose  hand  lingers  ere  it  takes  hold  on  judgment, 
to  the  withering  curse  of  slighted  mercy  and  abused 
long  suffering,  which  was  about  to  descend  upon 
it.  Here  you  have  the  reason  of  the  Redeemer's 
tears. 

We  may  not  be  able  to  present  a  correct  ana 
lysis  of  our  Saviour's  state  of  mind  which  here  finds 
expression ;  and  yet  the  language  which  he  uses 
indicates  one  thought  as  serving  to  give  to  his  feel 
ings  of  grief  peculiar  poignancy.  The  catastrophe 
which  he  bewailed  might  have  been  averted.  They 
were  not  unavoidable  evils  and  necessary  calamities 
which  awaited  that  devoted  city,  but  such  as  were 
traceable  to  their  source  in  the  folly  and  guilty  in 
fatuation  of  its  inhabitants.  Its  condition,  as  now 
doomed,  was  the  more  melancholy,  because  Jeru 
salem  might  have  been  saved. 

Now,  I  take  it  that  we  have  in  this  language  of 
Jesus  Christ  a  general  principle  of  deep  interest 
and  importance  to  ourselves.  However  widely  in 
some  respects  our  circumstances  may  differ  from 
thoae  of  the  ancient  Jews,  yet  so  far  as  our  rela- 


THE   DAY   OF   GRACE.  229 

tions  to  the  gospel  of  Christ  are  concerned,  what 
was  true  of  them  is  true  of  us.  As  subjects  of  this 
gospel,  we  stand  upon  the  same  platform,  have  the 
same  means  of  spiritual  good,  move  under  the  same 
influences,  and  must  in  our  character,  our  position,  and 
the  results  of  our  course,  illustrate  the  same  general 
principles.  Taking  all  this  for  granted,  and  we  do 
not  for  a  moment  suppose  that  it  will  be  called  in 
question  by  any  of  our  hearers,  we  start  the  ques 
tion, — what  is  my  position,  what  is  your  position, 
what  is  the  position  of  every  man  under  the  gospel 
of  Jesus  Christ  in  reference  to  the  salvation  of  the 
soul  \  That  is  the  question  with  which  we  have 
to  do  to-day.  A  question  big  with  interest,  and 
one  which  can  hardly  fail  to  arrest  and  rivet  the 
attention  of  every  one  who  believes  that  he  has  a 
soul  which  must  be  lost  or  saved. 

In  attempting  to  answer  this  question,  allow  me 
to  advert  again  to  the  thought  which  has  been  sug 
gested  as  that  which  gave  pungency  to  the  Saviour's 
grief  while  he  wept  over  Jerusalem, — the  now  cer 
tain  and  dreadful  catastrophe  might  have  been  pre 
vented.  Upon  no  other  ground  than  this,  can  the 
language  which  Christ  uttered  be  justified  to  any 
rational  mind;  for  the  sorrow  which  it  expresses 
regards  not  simply  the  event  itself,  but  the  event 
as  resulting  from  human  folly  and  infatuation. 
Study  it  carefully,  and  see  if  you  can  find  any  mean 
ing  in  the  language,  or  any  evidence  of  sincerity  in 
the  feeling  to  which  it  gives  utterance,  but  upon 
the  supposition  that  there  had  been  a  time  when 
these  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  mic'ht  have  known 


230  THE   DAY   OF   GKACE. 

the  things  which  belonged  to  their  peace,  and  when 
by  knowing  them  they  might  have  averted  their 
coming  doom.  . 

Now  for  my  doctrine.  Every  man  brought 
under  the  influence  of  the  gospel  has  a  time  of 
probation  and  hope ;  a  day  of  grace.  This  naked 
proposition  which  I  thus  lay  down,  will  not,  I  pre 
sume,  be  questioned,  though  some  there  are  who 
will  give  to  it  an  interpretation  which  will  strip  it 
of  all  its  power  and  life.  I  mean  by  a  day  of  pro 
bation  and  of  grace  something  more  than  an  arrest 
of  threatened  punishment,  something  more  than  an 
hour  of  respite.  I  mean  a  definite  season,  during 
which  every  man  who  enjoys  it  has  an  opportunity 
for  securing  everlasting  life.  We  may  look  upon  a 
day  of  grace  as  a  means,  connected  with  the  salva 
tion  of  the  soul  as  its  end.  To  preach  to  a  man 
"  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified,"  to  set  before  him 
the  plan  of  salvation  through  atoning  blood,  to 
throw  the  light  of  truth  upon  his  pathway,  to  press 
him  with  the  invitations  and  warnings  of  the  gos 
pel,  to  send  home  its  varied  and  powerful  appeals 
to  his  heart,  and  yet  to  intimate  that  these  multi 
form  influences  and  instrumentalities  do  not  con 
template  his  spiritual  good,  and  sustain  no  relation 
to  the  object  at  which  they  professedly  aim,  is  lit 
tle  else  than  trifling  with  human  sorrows,  and 
sporting  with  human  helplessness ;  other  and  higher 
and  nobler  views  do  I  take  of  the  gospel  of  the 
grace  of  God.  I  could  not  preach  it  did  I  not  be 
lieve  that  they  who  enjoy  its  light,  and  are  subject 
to  its  influences,  are  prisoners  of  hope ;  did  I  not 


THE   DAY    OF   GEACE.  231 

believe  that  there  is  a  connection  between  its  pri 
vileges  and  a  final  redemption  from  the  curse.  I 
could  not  come  and  lay  the  offer  of  eternal  life 
before  you,  my  brethren,  and  press  it  upon  your 
acceptance  by  the  urgency  of  eternal  motives,  did 
I  not  believe  that  it  was  meant  for  you,  and  that 
you  might  embrace  it  and  be  saved.  Perish  for 
ever  the  thought  which  would  thus  limit  the  grace 
of  God,  or  contract  the  circle  of  its  wondrous  mani 
festations.  The  provisions  of  the  gospel  are  in 
fullness  and  extent  all  that  human  wants  can  ask. 
The  message,  "  whosoever  will  may  come  and  take 
of  the  water  of  life  freely,"  is  the  standard  by 
which  to  guage  the  dimensions  of  the  love  of  God  : 
and  wherever  there  is  one  to  whom  I  may  preach 
the  gospel,  there  is  one  to  whom  I  may  say,  "  you 
may  be  saved." 

Such  a  view  of  the  gospel  and  of  the  relations 
of  men  as  its  subjects,  throws  a  new  aspect  over 
the  world  in  which  we  live  ;  if  my  statement  is  in 
accordance  with  truth,  then  is  this  world  not  a 
scene  of  unmixed  corruption,  hopeless  death  and 
irretrievable  ruin ;  then  is  this  day  of  grace  some 
thing  more  than  a  mere  reprieve  or  arrest  of  judg 
ment.  It  is  a  world  of  probation  and  of  hope ; 
these  hours  which  we  are  now  spending,  and  these 
scenes  through  which  we  are  now  passing,  are 
hours  and  scenes  full  of  delightful,  and  elevating, 
and  sanctifying  influences  ;  the  spot  where  God  has 
fixed  our  habitation,  is  the  spot  upon  which  the 
cross  has  been  erected,  whence  mercy  speaks,  and 
through  which  God  is  ready  to  dispense  his  bless- 


THE   DAY   OF   GKACE. 

ings  "  far  as  the  curse  is  found."  Oh,  that  men 
did  but  "  know  the  joyful  sound,"  that  they  "  un 
derstood  in  this  their  day,  the  things  which  belong 
unto  their  peace !" 

Another  remark  may  be  proper  at  this  point,  to 
prevent  a  misconception  of  the  doctrine  which  I 
have  laid  down.  When,  then,  in  delivering  the 
message  of  the  gospel,  I  say  to  a  man,  that  he  may 
be  saved,  I  do  not  intend  to  convey  the  idea  that 
there  are  no  difficulties  in  the  way  of  his  conver 
sion,  no  hindrances  to  his  salvation.  I  mean  sim 
ply,  that  all  outward  hindrances,  growing  out  of 
his  past  sinfulness,  and  out  of  the  claims  of  God's 
violated  commandments,  over  which,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  case,  he  could  have  no  control,  be 
cause  he  cannot  live  over,  or  redeem,  or  atone  for 
the  past,  are  entirely  removed.  Nothing  of  this 
kind  intervenes  between  him  and  the  attainment 
of  everlasting  life.  The  glory  of  God,  as  a  reconcil 
ing  God ;  the  secret  of  his  mighty  power,  as  re 
vealed  in  the  gospel,  over  the  human  conscience 
and  the  human  heart,  is  found  in  this,  that  he  has 
taken  it  upon  himself,  and  succeeded  at  an  amazing 
cost,  in  his  plan  to  remove  every  obstacle  on  the 
part  of  God's  government,  leaving  nothing  to  in 
tervene  between  a  man  and  his  salvation,  but  what 
derives  its  preventive  influence  from  the  state  of 
his  own  heart.  Therefore  do  we  say  to  a  man  that 
he  may  be  saved,  because  every  obstacle  of  an  out 
ward  character  insuperable  by  man  has  been  re 
moved,  and  because  the  influences  connected  with 
the  gospel,  which  are  brought  to  bear  upon  him, 


THE   DAY    OF    GEACE.  233 

are  in  their  own  nature  recovering  influences.  If 
this  is  so,  then,  two  positions  are  reached ;  the  one 
is,  that  before  man,  under  the  gospel,  a  door  of  hope 
is  opened  ;  the  other  is,  that  no  one  can  close  that 
door  but  himself.  He  may  be  saved  ;  if  he  should 
be  lost,  it  will  be  because  he  did  not  know,  in  his 
day  of  grace, "  the  things  which  belonged  to  his 
peace." 

Guided  by  this,  the  main  thought,  as  I  appre 
hend,  of  my  text,  when  I  come  to  my  hearers  with 
the  messages  of  eternal  truth,  I  say  to  them  gene 
rally,  "  this  is  your  day  of  grace."  It  is  so,  because 
you  are  the  subjects  of  that  gospel  which  with  its 
privileges  and  offers  has  appeared  unto  all  men.  The 
means  of  grace  which  God  has  appointed  seem  in 
their  enjoyment  necessarily  to  involve  the  oppor 
tunity  for  securing  eternal  life.  The  Sabbath  sun 
which  shines  upon  us,  and  lights  our  way  to 
the  house  of  God,  by  means  of  its  interesting 
associations  with  the  cross,  points  our  thoughts 
to  the  wondrous  work  of  redeeming  love  as  the 
ground  of  our  hope  and  the  source  of  sanctifying 
influence.  The  messages  of  mercy  which  are  ad 
dressed  to  us,  bringing  our  minds  as  they  do  into 
contact  with  questions  of  privilege  and  duty,  seem 
to  open  to  us  the  door  of  life,  as  they  demonstrate 
God's  readiness  to  save.  Providence,  too,  subordi 
nating  all  its  movements  to  the  cross  as  the  instru 
mentalities  of  its  designs,  arranges  a  man's  circum 
stances  and  fixes  his  changes  and  allotments  with  a 
view  of  giving  efficacy  to  the  truth.  From  the 
moment  when  we  first  listened  to  the  tale  of  a 


234  THE   DAY   OF    GEACE. 

Saviour's  love,  to  the  present  hour,  have  we  been 
moving  amid  such  associations,  and  under  such  in 
fluences.  There  is  not  one  of  us  without  a  hope  in 
Christ,  whose  career,  whether  it  has  been  long  or 
short,  must  not  be  essentially  varied  from  that  of 
the  vast  majority  of  his  fellows,  if,  as  he  looks  back 
from  his  present  position  over  the  scenes  through 
which  he  has  passed,  he  cannot  discover  many  op 
portunities  of  which  he  might  have  availed  himself, 
and  which  might  have  been  turned  to  account  in 
eifecting  a  great  change  in  his  circumstances  and 
relations ;  seasons  during  which,  had  he  rightly  esti 
mated  and  improved  them,  he  might  have  become 
a  subject  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 

Thus,  when  speaking  in  general  terms,  we  say 
that  "  life  is  man's  day  of  grace  and  hope ;"  because 
while  life  lasts  he  is  cheered  by  the  Sabbath  sun, 
instructed  by  the  teachings  of  the  gospel,  and  plied 
by  the  varied  means  of  conversion.  "Life  is  the 
day  of  grace,"  because  now  the  calls  of  mercy  fall 
upon  the  ear,  and  the  life-giving  and  sanctifying 
Spirit  moves  over  the  human  soul ;  and  God  is  near 
to  each  one  of  us,  and  may  be  found  of  those  who 
"  search  for  him  with  all  their  heart."  Need  I  add 
that  this  is  man's  only  day ;  once  past,  and  the 
shades  of  evening  gathered  over  him,  it  never  more 
returns;  once  past,  the  gates  of  that  everlasting 
kingdom  are  for  ever  closed,  and  the  invitations  of 
truth  and  the  whispers  of  the  Spirit  are  hushed  in 
the  silence  of  an  eternal  night.  "What  human  mind 
can  calculate  the  amazing  change  which  a  month. 
a  day,  an  hour  may  make  in  all  a  man's  spiritual 


THE   DAY    OF    GEACE.  235 

circumstances  and  relations?  Now  we  look  at 
kirn — he  is  in  a  world  of  light ;  he  is  a  prisoner  of 
hope ;  the  message  of  a  reconciling  God  falls  upon 
his  ear,  the  power  of  a  recovering  spirit  moves 
over  his  heart ;  there  is  the  mercy-seat  to  which  he 
may  lift  up  his  prayer,  and  there  the  advocate 
within  the  vail.  We  look  again,  and  he  is  not ;  the 
curtain  has  fallen,  the  scene  to  him  is  changed,  and 
where  he  dwells, 

"  In  that  lone  land  of  deep  despair, 

No  Sabbath's  heavenly  light  shall  rise  ; 
No  God  regard  his  bitter  prayer, 
Nor  Saviour  call  him  to  the  skies." 

This  general  position  admitted,  and  a  believer 
in  this  written  testimony  of  God  will  not  dispute 
it,  what  a  withering  reflection  it  casts  upon  a  ca 
reer  of  worldliness  and  spiritual  unconcern.  I  need 
not  say  any  thing  about  the  uncertainty  which  at 
taches  to  this  probationary  scene  ;  at  the  longest  it 
is  short,  in  circumstances  of  the  greatest  security 
it  is  doubtful.  The  thousands  who  are  falling 
around  us,  the  seeds  of  disease,  the  workings  of 
death,  of  which  we  are  conscious,  what  are  these 
but  the  daily,  hourly  remembrances  of  the  cer 
tainty  and  rapidity  of  our  flight  away  from  this 
land  of  promise  and  of  hope ;  which,  as  they  force 
themselves  upon  our  minds,  compel  our  sympathy 
with  the  spirit  which  sung, 

"  Great  God  !  on  what  a  slender  thread 

Hang  everlasting  things ; 
The  eternal  states  of  all  the  dead, 
Upon  life's  feeble  strings !" 


236  THE   DAY   OF   GKACE. 

And  if  upon  these  few  days,  fleeting  as  the 
morning  cloud,  and  evanescent  as  the  early  dew, 
hang  the  interests  of  these  deathless  spirits,  what 
is  the  man,  thoughtless  and  unconcerned  about  his 
spiritual  welfare,  doing,  but  burning  out  the  lamp 
of  life,  and  spending  his  only  day  of  mercy,  and  of 
hope,  upon  the  pleasures  and  follies  of  a  world 
fleeting  as  himself  ?  What  is  spiritual  indifference 
but  a  downright  robbery  of  the  soul  ?  nay  more, 
but  draining  the  very  life-blood  of  the  human 
spirit,  to  gratify  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of  the 
mind  ?  I  would  ask  the  man  buried  in  the  present, 
and  forgetful  of,  and  wholly  unprepared  for  the 
future,  to  pause  a  moment,  and  ponder  the  path  of 
his  feet,  and  tell  me  whether  he  honestly  thinks 
that  his  course  is  in  keeping  with  his  circum 
stances  ?  Admitting  the  uncertainty  of  probation, 
is  he  not  rapidly  pushing  on  to  a  spiritual  bank 
ruptcy  ;  and  while  he  cannot  but  acknowledge  that 
this  Sabbath's  sun  is  lighting  his  pathway  to  the 
grave,  what  is  he  doing  but  spending  what  may  be 
the  last  cent  of  his  spiritual  property,  and  intelli 
gently  wasting  upon  the  vanities  of  earth,  the  hour 
which  may  push  him  amid  the  untried  and  unpro 
vided  for  realities  of  another  world.  Surely  he 
knows  not,  in  this  his  day,  the  things  which  belong 
unto  his  peace. 

The  appeal  which  my  subject  makes  to  the  con 
science,  the  hopes,  and  the  fears  of  man,  is  regu 
lated  as  to  its  power  very  much  by  circumstances. 
True,  it  is  invested  with  interest  to  any  man, 
wherever  he  may  be,  and  in  whatever  circum- 


THE   DAY    OF   GEACE.  237 

stances  he  may  be  placed.  Confessedly,  is  the 
folly  amazing  of  any  man,  who,  without  a  hope  in 
Christ,  treads  his  pathway  carelessly  to  the  grave. 
Yet  there  are  circumstances  in  which  the  appeal  is 
peculiarly  strong,  because  the  light  in  which  its 
grounds  are  presented,  is  peculiarly  vivid.  There 
are  seasons  in  every  man's  history  strictly  charac 
terized  by  a  suitableness  to  a  religious  change, 
and  when  Providence  seems  in  an  especial  man 
ner  to  force  upon  his  attention  the  things  which 
belong  to  his  peace.  There  are  crises  in  men's 
lives,  when  God  is  very  near  unto  them,  and  hope 
and  eternal  life  are  very  near  them.  If  we  could 
point  to  a  human  being  whom  in  a  particular  and 
pointed  manner,  God  seemed  to  be  addressing, 
whom  he  had  selected  from,  those  around  him,  as  a 
subject  of  his  special  solicitude,  upon  whose  mind 
the  unfriendly  influences  of  the  world  had  less  than 
their  wonted  power,  to  whom  the  invitations  and 
warnings  of  the  gospel  were  particularly  directed, 
one,  in  short,  who  by  reason  of  his  outward  circum 
stances,  his  mental  susceptibility,  and  his  real  feel 
ings,  was  occupying  an  attitude  exceedingly  favora 
ble  to  his  conversion  to  God,  we  should  look  upon 
him  with  wondrous  interest,  as  one  who,  in  an  em 
phatic  sense,  was  enjoying  a  day  of  grace.  How 
wonderful  to  him  would  be  the  associations  amid 
which  he  moved.  How  much  of  peace  or  sorrow, 
hope  or  despair,  life  or  death,  would  be  dependent 
upon  his  movements,  in  the  circumstances  which 
Providence  had  so  kindly  arranged  for  him.  If  in 


238  THE   DAY   OF   GEACE. 

any  man  it  is  folly,  in  him  it  would  be  madness  not 
to  know  the  things  which  belong  to  his  peace. 

We  are  very  apt,  my  brethren,  to  look  abroad 
and  endeavour  to  define  the  character  of  others, 
and  determine  the  relative  advantages  and  disad 
vantages  of  the  positions  which  other  men  occupy. 
I  would  that  we  might  come  home  to  day,  and  ask 
ourselves  if  there  are  none  here,  who,  in  their  feel 
ings  and  circumstances,  meet  the  supposition  which 
we  have  just  been  making  ?     I  acknowledge,  that 
in  these  remarks  my  mind  turns  with  a  very  deep 
and   affectionate  interest  to  those  of  my  hearers 
who   are   in  the   spring-time   of  life.      To   them 
would  I  for  a  moment  address  myself,  and  to  their 
hearts  would  I  minister  the  appeal  which  my  sub 
ject  furnishes.     You,  my  youthful  hearers,  are  now 
spending  the  best  and  brightest  part  of  your  day 
of  grace.     I  do  not  intend,  in  any  of  the  remarks 
which  I  am  about  to  utter,  to  limit  the  operations 
of  the  grace  of  God,  or  intimate  that  the  day  of 
grace  terminates  with  any  particular  year  of  human 
life.     God  forbid  that  we  should,  as  the  Bible  has 
not,  shut  out  the  aged  unbeliever  from  hope.     It 
is  never  out  of  place ;  it  is  never  too  late,  while  the 
eye,  though  dim,  yet  sees,  and  the  pulse,  though 
feeble,  yet  beats,  not  though  the  winter  of  life  be 
at  its  depth,  and  the  sun  be  touching  the  horizon, 
to  say,  "  now  is  the  accepted  time" — but  it  does 
aeem  to  be  implied  in  the  whole  strain  of  inspired 
teaching,  that  repentance  deferred,  if  not  impossi 
ble,  is  doubtful. 

There  is  a  peculiarity  about  the   messages  of 


THE    DAT    OF    GEACE.  239 

truth,  which  give  them  a  special  emphasis  to  the 
youthful  mind,  in  that  while  they  are  addressed 
indiscriminately  to  all  men,  they  apply  them  par 
ticularly  to  the  young.     The  man  of  middle  life, 
and  the  man  of  riper  years,  is  never  selected  in 
the  word    of   God    as    the    subject   to  whom  it 
presents  a  specific  invitation,  or  to  whom  it  holds 
out  a  specific  promise.     There  is  a  meaning  and  a 
point  which  cannot  well  be  overlooked,  in  the  ex 
hortation,  "  Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days 
of  thy  youth,"  and  a  richness  unspeakably  precious 
in  the  promise,  "  They  that  seek  me  early  shall  find 
me."     This  much,  certainly,  we  may  infer  from  the 
statements  of  the  inspired  oracles,  that  God  looks 
upon  the  young  with  peculiar  interest,  and  his  Spirit 
strives  with  them  in  a  peculiar  manner.  In  the  spring 
time  of  life  is  man  the  special  object  of  divine  in 
struction,   divine  expostulation,  and  divine  solici 
tude.     You  cannot  doubt  it  in  view  of  the  inquiry, 
addressed  with  so  much  tenderness  to  every  youth 
ful  conscience,  "  Wilt  thou  not  from  this  time  cry 
unto  me,  my  Father,  thou  art  the  guide  of  my 
youth."     You  cannot  doubt  it,  in  view  of  that  de 
light  which  God  takes  in  those  who  consecrate 
unto  him  the  dew  of  their  youth.     That  quick  sus 
ceptibility,  that  tenderness  of  heart,  that  wakeful 
conscience,  those  prompt  responses  of  the  mind  to 
the  truth  of  God,  those  frequent  movements  in  ac 
cordance  with  the  appeals  of  heavenly  mercy,  those 
deep  and  strong  emotions,  which  are  stirred  within 
you  by  the  power  of  the  cross,  as  the  Saviour  from 
amid  the  scenes  of  his  humiliation,  appeals  to  you, 


240  THE   DAY   OF   GEACE. 

and  asks  your  hearts  as  a  cheerful  tribute  to  his  be 
nevolence,  all  show  that  God  is  striving  with  you, 
and  that  you  are  very  near  the  entrance  into  his 
kingdom.     How  precious  to  you  is  this  your  day  of 
grace !     "Would  you  rightly  estimate  its  value,  and 
fully  appreciate  its  importance,  let  the  testimony  of 
inspired  truth  be  strengthened  by  your  own  obser 
vation,  as  you  see  how  men  depart  from  God  as 
they  move  onward  in  life.     He  who  has  entered 
upon  those  scenes  of  active  engagements  to  which 
manhood  calls  him,  unconverted  to  God,  may  have 
indeed  his  hours  of  deep   reflection  and  solemn 
thought,  and  agitated  feeling,  but  he  knows  nothing 
of  that  tenderness  of  soul,  of  that  susceptibility  of 
impression,  of  those  strivings  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
which  formed   characteristics   of  his  early  years. 
Believe  me,  there  is  no  day  of  grace,  there  is  no 
season  like  that  of  youth,  in  which  to  make  one's 
peace  with  God.     Skeptical  upon  this  point  you 
may  be,  but  against  that  skepticism  is  arrayed  the 
testimony  of  the  Bible,  and  of  all,  without  a  single 
exception,  of  those   who   have   gone  before   you. 
Nay,  more  than  this,  your  honest  convictions  are 
against  it ;  for  there  is  not  one  in  early  life,  who 
hears  me  to-day,  who,  however  willing  he  might  be 
in  respect  to  some  worldly  associations  or  circum 
stances,  to  exchange  places  with  another  more  ad 
vanced  in  life,  would  be  willing  to  exchange  with 
him,  if  he  is  out  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  his  hope 
in  reference  to  eternal  life.     Give  me  then  your 
mind,  my  youthful  hearer,  and  suffer  my  appeal. 
This  is  your  day  of  promise  and  of  hope.     Oh  ! 


THE   DAY    OF    GRACE.  241 

let  it  not  slip  by  unheeded  and  unimproved  ;  scat 
ter  not,  in  this  spring-time  of  life,  the  seeds  which 
can  produce  no  othe"r  harvest  than  one  of  anguish 
and  despair.  Youth  is  the  season  of  action  in 
spiritual  as  well  as  temporal  things,  because  the 
season  of  quick  apprehension,  buoyant  spirits,  and 
elastic  energies.  There  is  a  season  coming  when 
there  will  be  ice  in  the  blood  and  snow  on  the 
brow,  and  all  the  emblems  of  winter  will  be 
thickly  strewed  over  the  man  ;  and  if  there  has 
beeen  no  action  before,  it  will  be  a  hard  thing, 
a  scarcely  possible  thing,  when  the  limb  has 
grown  rigid,  and  the  blood  has  become  con 
gealed,  to  put  forth  the  energies  which  a  suc 
cessful  action  demands.  In  spiritual  things,  the 
man  who  has  been  successful  in  drowning  anxiety, 
and  stifling  conscience,  as  every  man  must  have 
been,  who  has  passed  onward  in  life  unconverted, 
must  have  closed  up  all  the  avenues  through  which 
the  gospel  message  might  find  an  entrance  to  his 
mind — never  in  after  life,  will  he  be  a  willing, 
certainly  not  an  intelligent  auditor  of  the  message, 
that  judgment  is  coming  to  all,  and  that  eternity 
is  big  with  terror  to  all  who  have  not  been  born 
again.  The  state  of  his  mind  will  not  be  adapted  to 
grapple  with  so  stern  a  communication — his  appre 
hension  will  not  grasp  the  tidings  in  their  length 
and  breadth — or  if  we  should  endeavour  to  stir  him 
with  the  touching  spectacle  of  a  Redeemer's 
crucifixion,  his  sensibilities  are  too  benumbed  to 
appreciate  our  appeal,  his  heart  too  indurated  to 
feel  its  force.  You  might  as  well  try  to  melt  a. 
16 


242  THE  DAY  OF  GEACE. 

substance  with  the  same  fire  which  hardened  it,  as 
move  a  man  by  those  appliances  of  truth  which 
have  served  but  to  fasten  him  where  he  is.  Thus 
hope  becomes  weaker,  as  time  rolls  on — and  he 
who  in  youth  might  have  been  converted,  is  unini- 
pressible  in  age — precisely  as  the  oak,  which  an 
infant  might  have  crushed  in  the  acorn,  when 
rooted  in  the  ground,  defies  the  might  of  a  giant's 
strength. 

Every  thing,  then,  my  youthful  hearer,  depends, 
in  all  human  probability,  upon  your  prompt  action 
in  this  your  day.  Your  own  honest  convictions 
accord  with  what  I  utter.  The  man  of  middle  life, 
cumbered  with  the  cares,  and  harassed  with  the 
perplexities  of  active  business,  which  no  more 
agitate  his  mind  than  indispose  it  for  spiritual 
things — the  aged  sinner,  as  he  trembles  on  the 
verge  of  the  grave,  shattered  in  body,  and  en 
feebled  in  mind,  unable  to  bring  home  to  his 
conscience  and  heart  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  and 
essaying  in  vain,  after  some  clear  discovery  of  the 
way  of  life, — look  back  to  you  and  say,  in  tones  of 
emphatic  and  solemn  warning,  — "  Act  now." 
Nay  more,  there  is  a  voice  coming  from  yonder 
dark  prison  house  to-day.  Listen  to  it — it  is  full 
of  meaning.  It  is  the  voice  of  those  who  passed 
on  earth  through  scenes  of  privilege,  of  promise, 
and  of  hope ;  and  they  say,  "  If  you  would  not  be 
united  to  us  at  last,  in  our  tears  and  sorrows  of  un 
availing  regret,  and  bitter  self-reflection,  as  we  look 
back  over  the  scenes  of  early  life — now  in  this 
your  day  attend  to  the  things  which  belong  to 


THE   DAY    OF    GRACE.  243 

your  peace."  "We  meet  you,  then,  to-day,  my 
youthful  hearers — some  of  you  are  just  crossing  the 
limit  of  this  day  of  grace — with  our  kind,  yet  pow 
erful  appeal.  I  cannot  tell  its  issue,  but  if  I  could, 
I  would  write  it  on  the  conscience  and  burn  it  into 
the  heart.  And  if  it  fail  of  its  end,  it  will  yet  not 
be  lost.  You  will  meet  it  again,  and  dread  it 
again,  and  feel  it  again ;  and  when  your  day  has 
gone,  and  your  sun  has  sunk  beneath  the  horizon, 
and  a  darkness  which  may  be  felt,  gathers  over 
your  spirits,  putting  out  the  last  ray  of  hope,  this 
Sabbath  day  will  rise  up  in  freshness  and  vividness 
to  your  mind,  and  its  remembered  argument,  and 
its  recollected  appeal,  oh !  how  they  will  tell  upon 
the  stricken,  mourning  spirit,  and  what  an  oppres 
sive  load  will  they  throw  upon  an  already  over 
tasked  and  sinking  soul !  Oh  !  "that  you  did  but 
know,  at  least  in  this  your  day,  the  things  which 
belong  unto  your  peace." 

But  if  the  appeal  of  our  Saviour's  lamentation 
has  a  peculiar  pertinency  in  reference  to  the  young, 
it  is  not  without  its  force  as  addressed  to  others. 
I  doubt  not,  my  brethren,  that  there  are  some 
thoughtful,  troubled  spirits  here  to-day.  I  doubt 
not  that  in  some  minds,  among  those  out  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  there  is  a  conscious  interest,  more 
or  less  deep,  upon  the  subject  of  religion.  There 
are  those  who  have  their  hours  of  thoughtfulness, 
their  sincere  and  honest  convictions,  their  half- 
formed,  secretly  cherished,  sometimes  almost  ex 
pressed  purposes  of  a  change.  There  is  this  pecu 
liarity  about  such  a  state  of  mind  that  the  things  of 


244  THE    DAY    OF    GRACE. 

religion  have  an  aspect  of  vividness  and  reality. 
Its  subjects  are  not  satisfied  with  what  they  are ; 
they  cannot  reconcile  their  position  in  a  religious 
point  of  view  with  their  intelligent  convictions  of 
duty  or  safety.  Such  facts,  and  others  kindred  to 
them,  can  no  otherwise  be  explained  than  upon  the 
supposition  that  God,  in  the  instructive  and  recov 
ering  influences  of  his  grace,  is  very  near.  I  doubt 
not  that  he  often  thus  acts  upon  and  tests  men 
when  others  know  nothing  about  it,  and  they 
themselves  hardly  suspect  the  true  nature  and  ten 
dency  of  their  mental  movements.  Now,  I  meet  a 
man  in  such  a  state,  and  interpret  his  experiences. 
God  is  trying  him — it  is  his  day  of  grace  and 
hope.  I  know  not  what  he  will  do  under  the  spi 
ritual  pressure  which  rests  upon  his  mind.  But  I 
would  have  him  feel  how  much  hangs  upon  his 
action.  He  will  do  something ;  he  will  pass  through 
some  processes  of  thought,  through  some  mental 
changes.  He  is  now  doing  so ;  and  these  processes 
of  thought,  and  these  mental  changes,  will  tell ;  tell 
certainly,  tell  effectively ;  tell,  perhaps,  decisively 
upon  the  question  of  his  final,  permanent  spiritual 
condition.  He  is  shaping  his  course  at  this  very 
moment  for  a  world  of  sorrow,  or  a  world  of  joy. 
Such  a  man,  in  such  a  state,  hardly  needs  to  be 
taught ;  he  is  taught  already.  He  does  not  need  to 
be  moved  ;  he  is  moved  already.  He  is  in  his  con 
sciousness  a  living  witness  to  himself,  and  in  his 
words  and  actions  a  demonstration  to  others  of  the 
reality  and  power  of  spiritual  influences.  It  is  a 
day  of  grace  with  him ;  a  day  of  hope  ;  and  yet  a 


THE   DAY    OF    GRACE.  245 

day  of  peril ;  many  a  one  has  passed  through,  it 
unchanged ;  and  in  doing  so  has  put  away  from 
him  the  words  of  everlasting  life ;  and,  thereafter,  a 
deep  insensibility  has  fallen  upon  his  spirit,  and  a 
thick  darkness  has  settled  upon  his  prospects.  The 
Bible  to  him,  in  its  promises  and  warnings,  has  been 
a  sealed  book,  an  unmeaning  book,  a  powerless 
book.  Every  message  of  mercy  has  fallen  upon  a 
stupified  conscience,  and  an  indurated  heart.  Every 
step  which  he  has  taken  has  been  onward  to  a  cer 
tain,  dreadful  catastrophe ;  and  at  last  he  stands, 
the  hero  of  many  victories  achieved  by  "  the  lust 
of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of 
life,"  over  the  influences  of  the  truth  and  the  mani 
festations  of  the  Spirit,  unshaken  and  unaffected ; 
until  he  is  awakened,  at  last,  to  find  that  "  the  har 
vest  is  past,  and  the  summer  ended,  and  he  is  not 
saved." 

I  do  not  know,  my  brethren,  of  a  more  painful 
spectacle    than    that    of     a    man,    who,    having 
advanced   far   in   his   earthly   career,   confessedly 
without  confidence  and  hope  in  God,  is  yet  a  sub 
ject  of  spiritual  indifference.     You  will  find  him 
wrapped  up  in  a  garment  of  self-satisfaction,  per 
fectly   impenetrable — he    does    not    need    to   be 
taught — he  will  not  be  taught  in  spiritual  things 
— he   may  be  very   much   obliged  by   the   well- 
meant   but   mistaken  interference  of  others  who 
would  endeavor  to  enlighten  him,  but  he  does  not 
wish  to  be  troubled.   His  path  is  beset  by  danger, 
but  he  does  not  see  it — there  are  pitfalls  before 
him,  but  his  prejudice  covers  them — it  is  darkness 


246  THE    DAY    OF    GEACE. 

all  around  him,  deep,  moral,  midnight ;  but  his  vain 
arguments  and  false  confidences  are  like  meteors, 
which,  filling  the  horizon  and  colouring  the  sky, 
make  his  midnight  seem  like  the  blushing  of  the 
morning — and  there  he  is,  passive  and  unconcern 
ed,  waiting  till  the  grave  opens  to  receive  him. 
and  destruction  to  engulph  him.  Some  men 
wonder  how  any  one  can  reach  such  a  state.  It  is 
a  painful  state,  but  there  is  nothing  mysterious 
about  it.  This  is  the  secret  of  it — the  man  has 
sinned  away  his  day  of  grace,  and  God  has  left 
him. 

And  if  there  be  a  man  here  to-day,  of  thought 
ful  mind  and  awakened  conscience — if  there  be  one 
to  whom  religious  truth  is  invested  with  interest 
— who  feels  dissatisfied  with  his  present  spiritual 
position,  and  is  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  a 
change,  I  would  remind  him,  that  this  blinded,  and 
infatuated,  and  morally  speaking,  sepulchred  man, 
whose  picture  we  have  just  drawn,  once  had  his 
day  of  grace — once  passed  through  the  very  pro 
cesses  of  thought  and  feeling  which  now  belong  to 
himself — he  was  once  just  like  you.  Oh,  see  to  it 
that  you  do  not,  by  postponing  the  subject  of  reli 
gion,  become  just  like  him. 

My  thoughtful,  my  convinced  hearer,  bear  with 
my  appeal.  You  have  your  day  of  grace ;  and 
now  I  press  upon  your  attention,  the  mighty  theme 
of  an  interest  in  Jesus  Christ.  Oh !  "  that  yon 
knew,  at  least,  in  this  thy  day,  the  things  which 
belong  unto  your  peace"  !  There  is  an  hour  coming, 
when,  sympathising  with  your  speaker  in  the  views. 


THE   DAY   OF   GEACE.  247 

he  has  taken,  you  will  no  more  wonder  at  his  ear 
nestness  and  importunity.  There  is  an  hour  coming, 
when  the  door  of  hope  will  be  shut,  and  the  convic 
tion  will  be  clear  and  irresistible,  that  it  never  again 
can  be  opened.  Then  will  the  views  of  men  con 
cerning  their  day  of  grace  be  vastly  changed. 
Then  the  scenes  through  which  they  have  passed 
will  rise  up  to  the  view  unobstructed  by  any  of  the 
delusions  of  sense,  and  unperverted  in  their  fea 
tures  by  any  of  the  sophistries  of  a  deceitful  heart. 
The  time  when  God  was  near,  and  waited  to  bless, 
will  be  seen  to  have  had  a  meaning  and  a  precious- 
ness  which  do  not  now  belong  to  it ;  and  as  me 
mory  runs  back  along  the  line  of  one's  history, 
every  day  of  promise  will  be  seen.  The  season  of 
youth,  with  all  its  susceptibility  and  tenderness,  and 
quickness  of  feeling,  the  hour  when  in  the  sanc 
tuary  God  drew  near  unto  the  soul,  and  the  wake- 
fulness  and  reproofs  of  conscience  demonstrated 
the  presence  and  power  of  his  spirit ;  the  dealings 
of  Providence,  which  brought  eternal  realities 
home  to  his  mind,  all  seen  as  gone,  gone  unim 
proved,  will  all  be  to  him,  not  more  proofs  of  his 
certain  ruin,  than  evidences  of  the  doctrine  that  he 
might  have  been  saved,  had  he  but  known  in  his 
day  of  grace  the  things  which  belonged  to  his 
peace.  My  brethren,  that  hour  is  coming ;  this 
day  of  grace  is  rapidly  passing  away.  This  Sab 
bath,  this  argument,  this  message  takes  so  much 
away  from  the  opportunities  which  God  has 
afforded,  while  he  still  waits  to  be  gracious,  and 
his  message  is  one  of  invitation.  While  his  Spirit 


248  THE   DAY   OF   GKACE. 

yet  moves  in  his  quickening  influences  over  those 
hearts,  while  the  door  of  life  is  yet  open,  while  con 
science  approves  the  claims  of  the  truth,  and  the 
mind  is  accessible  to  the  persuasive  arguments  of 
the  cross  ;  ere  the  sensibilities  become  callous,  and 
a  sinful  world  has  obtained  the  mastery,  oh !  heed 
the  appeal,  which  the  lamentation  of  the  Saviour 
ministers  with  so  much  power.  He  wept  over  Jeru 
salem  because  her  inhabitants  knew  not  the  time 
of  their  visitation  ;  and  if  after  having  poured  out 
his  soul  unto  death,  and  brought  to  you  an  offer  of 
mercy,  and  plied  you  with  so  many  and  such  ten 
der  and  forceful  entreaties,  he  should  be  compelled 
to  weep  over  your  infatuated  resistance,  those  tears, 
believe  me,  will  be  scalding  drops,  the  torture  of 
which  the  human  spirit  can  never  bear.  Oh !  "  that 
you  knew,  in  this  your  day,  the  things  which  be 
long  unto  your  peace." 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 


"  Christ  hath  redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a 
curse  for  us." — GALATIANS  iii.  13. 

THE  necessity  of  some  wonderful  expedient  to 
restore  friendship  "between  God  and  his  alienated 
creatures  ;  of  some  ground  or  reason  of  forgiveness 
out  of,  and  independent  of  man  himself,  has  not  been 
more  clearly  taught  by  all  just  views  of  the  character 
and  government  of  our  Maker,  than  fully  demonstra 
ted  by  the  irrepressible  convictions  of  every  human 
bosom.  "  Wherewithal  shall  I  come  before  my  Ma 
ker  ?"  and  "  how  shall  man  be  just  with  God  2"  are 
questions,  which  have  tried,  and  agitated,  and  palsied 
the  mind  in  every  age  of  the  world.  The  human 
intellect  has  felt  its  own  littleness  when  it  has 
attempted  to  grapple  with  them,  and  no  human  sa 
gacity  or  invention  has  availed  to  furnish  of  them 
any  thing  like  a  competent  solution.  The  light 
manner  in  wThich  some  men  treat  these  questions, 
and  the  unseemly  and  really  flippant  air  with  which 
they  speak  of  the  ease  of  forgiveness,  and  conse 
quently  of  the  scruples  and  anxieties  of  others,  are 
due  to  a  want  of  moral  sensibility,  which  makes 


250        NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

sin  a  very  trifling  matter  in  their  estimation,  and  to 
an  ignorance  of  God,   which  blinds  them  to  the 

o  / 

unsullied  and  necessary  holiness  of  his  character. 
If  the  wisest  and  purest  of  heathen  sages,  one  who 
from  many  of  his  disclosures,  seems  to  have  caught 
a  glimpse  of  light  from  other  sources  than  nature's 
revelations,  yet  could  never  perfectly  satisfy  him 
self  as  to  the  possibility  of  forgiveness,  if  notwith 
standing  all  his  reasonings,  doubt  preponderated 
over  faith,  and  fear  over  hope,  surely  it  cannot  be 
a  trifling  question,  nor  one  to  be  disposed  of  so  ea 
sily  and  summarily  as  some  men  suppose.  An 
awakened  conscience  will  start  difficulties,  of  which 
spiritual  insensibility  never  dreams ;  and  an  intelli 
gent  conviction  of  sin  will  render  ineffective  all 
the  efforts  of  human  wisdom  to  remove  them.  The 
human  mind  never  yet  has  found  a  rational  and  sat 
isfactory  peace,  save  in  the  light  which  the  revela 
tion  of  God  has  thrown  upon  the  problem  of  for 
giveness.  Conscience  has  served  only  to  start  the 
question,  but  not  to  furnish  the  answer.  It  lifts 
an  accusing  voice,  and  heralds  a  corning  storm, 
and  there  it  leaves  its  subject  without  furnishing 
him  with  a  justifying  plea,  or  directing  him  to  a 
covert  from  the  tempest  whose  approach  it  an 
nounces.  Reason  ransacks  the  analogies  of  nature, 
but  finds  nothing  which  furnishes  any  help  for  the 
mastery  of  this  wondrous  problem.  The  works  of 
God  are  full  of  evidences  of  order,  magnificence 
and  bounty,  but  among  them  all  not  a  trace  of  par 
don  can  be  found. 

The  only  light  which  has  ever  broken  in  upon 


NATUEE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        251 

this  darkness,  and  banished  those  forms  of  horror 
which  walk  around  us  in  the  gloom,  comes  from 
this  book  of  God.  "  The  word  made  flesh,"  is  the 
revealed  solution  of  the  difficulty.  "  Christ  and 
Christ  crucified,'1  is  the  only  source  of  peace  and 
hope  to  the  distracted  and  despairing  spirit.  With 
the  simple  narrative  of  the  gospel  we  are  all  fami 
liar.  It  is  the  story  of  the  Son  of  God,  clothed  in 
our  nature,  tabernacling  in  the  world.  It  ;s  the 
tale  of  his  life  of  suffering  and  his  death  of  agony. 
It  is  human  nature,  illustrating  by  a  course  of  un 
swerving  obedience,  and  spotless  innocence,  the 
excellence,  and  so  magnifying  the  righteousness  of 
the  broken  law.  It  is  the  picture  of  "  a  man  of 
sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief."  It  carries  us 
with  him  every  step  of  a  painful  pilgrimage.  It 
shews  him  to  us  as  he  struggles  in  the  garden  with 
his  anticipations  of  coming  woe,  as  he  agonizes  on 
the  cross,  carrying  on  there  a  mysterious  conflict, 
and  enduring  an  incomprehensible  anguish,  and 
expiring  amid  throes  of  convulsive  pain  with  which 
all  nature  sympathized.  We  feel,  while  we  read 
the  tale,  that  we  are  communing  with  a  singular 
being  ;  singular  in  the  constitution  of  his  person  as 
harmonizing  and  embracing  the  divine  and  the 
human ;  singular  in  all  his  experience,  singular  in 
his  conflicts,  and  singular  in  his  death ;  and  while 
we  study  the  exhibition,  we  are  told  that  in  view 
of  it  God  can  be  just,  and  yet  forgive ;  that  on  the 
ground  of  the  doing  and  the  suffering  of  Jesus 
Christ,  pardon,  full  and  free,  may  be  extended  to 
sin,  to  any  sin,  to  all  sin.  This  is  the  simple  nar- 


252        NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

rative,  the  answer  which  the  Bible  gives  to  the 
question,  "  Can  a  man  be  just  with  God  ?" 

If  we  have  thus  before  us  the  fact,  we  may  well 
summon  to  it  our  most  interested  attention.  How 
many  inquiries  at  once  start  up  in  the  mind  in 
view  of  it.  He  can  hardly  be  said  to  think,  who 
has  never  asked  himself,  how  do  the  sufferings  of 
Christ  constitute  a  ground  of  pardon,  or  what  is 
the  great  principle  of  atonement  ?  Does  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ  meet  the  sinner's  case,  honoring 
God,  and  satisfying  the  human  mind  ?  Is  the 
scheme  throughout  consistent  with  itself,  and  so 
completely  free  from  difficulties  as  not  only,  to  war 
rant,  but  to  demand  a  rational  faith  ?  To  the  sub 
stance  of  these  questions,  involving,  as  they  do,  the 
nature,  reality,  and  reasonableness  of  atonement, 
our  thoughts  shall  be  for  a  few  moments  directed. 

And  here,  I  am  well  aware,  my  brethren,  that 
we  are  treading  upon  what,  to  some  minds,  seems  to 
be  very  uncertain  ground.  It  has  been  distinctly 
avowed,  and  that  upon  high  authority,  that  the 
nature  of  the  atonement,  or  how  the  sufferings  of 
Jesus  Christ  can  be  a  ground  of  pardon,  is  absolute 
ly  incomprehensible.  We  know  it  is  said,  merely, 
that  God,  for  Christ's  sake,  does  forgive  sin — but 
why  or  how  he  can  consistently  do  so,  are  questions 
about  which  we  can  merely  speculate,  without  the 
possibility  of  arriving  at  certain  truth.  If  this  is 
so,  then  the  very  thing  which  it  is  the  purpose  of 
Christ's  propitiation  to  declare,  is  as  much  a  mys 
tery  now  as  ever — then,  though  we  may  be 
assured  that  the  atonement  meets  all  the  diffi- 


NATURE    OF   TIIE    ATONEMENT.  253 

culties  growing  out  of  the  government  of  God. 
we  cannot  tell  whether  it  meets  all  the  difficulties 
originating  in  the  mind  of  man.  It  cannot,  there 
fore,  be  the  subject  of  a  rational  faith,  nor  the 
source  of  a  settled,  unwavering  peace.  I  grant  you 
that  there  are  some  things  connected  with  the 
atonement,  which,  to  us,  in  our  present  state,  are 
incomprehensible.  We  cannot  unravel  the  mys 
teries  of  our  Saviour's  person,  nor  fathom  the 
depths  of  his  anguish,  nor  analyze  perfectly  the 
character  of  his  experience  ;  but  the  relation  of  his 
sufferings  to  our  forgiveness,  as  its  procuring  cause, 
the  manner  in  which  they  become  available 
to  such  a  result,  seems  to  me  to  involve  some 
of  the  first  principles  of  the  doctrines  of  Christ — 
principles  radical  in  the  system  of  revealed  truth, 
without  an  apprehension  of  which  the  Bible  is  a 
sealed  book,  and  the  whole  plan  of  redemption  is 
an  inexplicable  and  unprofitable,  and  even  an 
embarrassing  mystery.  If  we  are  at  a  loss  here,  we 
are  at  a  loss  every  where.  If  we  do  not  understand 
these  first  principles,  we  do  not  understand  the 
spirit,  the  essence,  the  very  life  of  the  gospeL 

The  necessity  of  atonement  (as  we  have  already 
seen)  grows  out  of  the  nature  of  God,  and  the 
nature  of  man — out  of  the  nature  of  God,  whose 
righteousness  seems  to  demand  the  punishment  of 
sin — out  of  the  nature  of  man,  whose  feelings 
seem  to  demand  a  reparation  of  the  past,  and  a 
preventive  to  the  future  evil  of  his  sinfulness,  in 
order  that  he  may  have  perfect  peace.  Now,  it 
strikes  me  as  assuming  the  very  point  in  dispute  to 


254        NATUKE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

say,  that  justice  or  righteousness  necessarily  de 
mands  the  literal  infliction  of  the  threatened 
penalty,  the  strict  and  unfailing  punishment  of  the 
transgressor.  If  it  is  so,  in  reality,  that  every  man 
must  receive  the  punishment  he  has  merited,  in 
order  that  justice  may  be  kept  unsullied,  then  there 
can  be  no  forgiveness  ;  and  every  man  who  admits 
that  there  is  forgiveness,  admits  that  justice  does 
not  necessarily  require  a  literal  punishment,  and 
that  it  is  perfectly  consistent  with  treating  men 
differently  from  their  deserts. 

I  doubt  not,  my  brethren,  that  not  a  little  of  the 
indistinctness  which  marks  men's  views  upon  this 
subject,  arises  from  a  want  of  discrimination — dis 
crimination,  I  mean,  between  the  ends  of  justice 
and  the  modes  by  which  those  ends  are  to  be 
secured.  The  grand  end  is  one  thing,  and  the  pri 
mary  and  essential  thing,  the  method  of  securing 
that  end,  is  another  thing,  and  comparatively 
speaking,  unessential  and  unimportant.  Now,  sure 
ly,  I  need  not  say  to  my  hearers  that  the  punish 
ment  of  crime  is  not  the  end  of  justice — it  is  but 
means  to  an  end  itself,  in  the  maintenance  of  the 
authority  of  the  law-giver — the  manifestation  of 
the  majesty  of  the  law — the  preserving  unweaken- 
ed  the  securities  of  righteousness.  Wherever,  and 
by  whatever  means,  rights  are  preserved  untouch 
ed  and  interests  unimpaired,  the  great  ends  of 
justice  are  secured.  The  penalty  attached  to  the 
law,  and  the  infliction  of  it,  in  case  of  transgres 
sion,  are  the  means  through  which  justice  is  to 
attain  its  ends.  But  can  we  undertake  to  say  that 


tfATUBE    OF   THE    ATONEMENT.  255 

they  are  the  only  supposable  means  ?  If,  indeed, 
these  results  can  be  reached  in  no  other  way  than 
the  literal  punishment  of  sin,  then,  indeed,  is  the 
infliction  of  penalty  essential  to  justice — but  if  we 
take  this  ground,  then  we  again  beg  the  question, 
and  pronounce  beforehand  forgiveness  on  the  part 
of  God,  to  be  impossible,  because  inconsistent  with 
his  character,  as  a  just  God,  and  an  upright,  moral 
governor. 

It  is,  however,  by  no  means  an  extravagant  sup 
position,  that  cases  may  occur  under  any  adminis 
tration,  where  the  infliction  of  punishment  upon  a 
criminal  may  not  be  necessary  to  answer  the  ends 
of  justice.  A  wise  parent,  for  example,  may  see  in 
the  case  of  a  disobedient  child,  that  the  great  ob 
ject  of  parental  oversight,  the  welfare  and  order  of 
his  family,  may  be  perfectly  attained,  without  in 
flicting  the  punishment  which  had  been  threatened 
to  the  disobedience  in  question.  In  such  a  case 
the  inquiry  arises,  do  the  claims  of  justice  impera 
tively  demand  a  strict  and  literal  adherence  to  the 
threatened  penalty  ?  Has  wisdom  nothing  to  say 
in  this  matter  ?  Does  benevolence  put  in  here  no 
claims  which  must  be  heard  ?  It  is  but  an  artful 
evasion  to  say,  that  there  can  be  no  goodness,  no 
wisdom,  contrary  to  justice  ;  whatever  is  right, 
must  be  wise  and  good.  True,  but  if  there  can  be 
wisdom  and  goodness  without  any  conflict  with 
justice,  who  will  stand  in  the  way  of  their  mani 
festation  ?  The  great  end  of  government  is  order, 
and  suffering  in  case  of  crime,  only  where  it  is 
essential  to  order.  It  never  seeks  or  inflicts  suffer- 


256        NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

ing  for  its  own  sake,   but  in  view  of  some  good 
results  which  are  to  flow  from  it;  and  if  those 
results  can  be  secured,  while  at  the  same  time  the 
amount  of  suffering  necessary  may  be  diminished, 
where  is   the  injury  ?     Goodness  accomplishes  its 
purpose,  and  justice  is  satisfied  because  its  ends  are 
attained.     The  case  is  a  much  stronger  one,  where 
the  ends  of  justice  can  be  better  secured  without, 
than  with  the  literal  infliction  of  the  penalty.     If  I, 
as  a  parent,  can  discover  any  way  in  which  I  can 
better  secure  the  welfare  of  my  family,  and  exhibit 
the  uprightness  of  my  character,  than  by  the  literal 
punishment  of  disobedience,  surely  in  the  adoption 
of  that  method,  while  I  exhibit  my  wisdom  and  my 
benevolence,  I  do  at  the  same  time  show  myself 
more  regardful  even  of  justice,  than  I  should  do 
were  I  to  decline  the  adoption  of  such  an  expe 
dient.     Nay,  in  the  latter  case  I  could  not,  I  im 
agine,  escape  the  charge  of  viudictiveness,  a  dis 
position   to  inflict    punishment   for    punishment's 
sake,  irrespective  of  the  ends  to  be  secured  by  it, 
Avhen  I  refuse  to  adopt  a  method  by  which  the 
suffering  might  be  spared,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  object  of  that  suffering  could  be  much  more 
certainly  and  easily  attained. 

These  principles,  it  strikes  me,  are  unquestiona 
ble,  and  they  commend  themselves  to  the  common 
sense  of  every  thoughtful  mind  ;  and  these,  I  ima 
gine,  are  the  principles  upon  which  the  doctrine  of 
atonement  proceeds,  and  which  serve  most  clearly 
to  illustrate  its  nature.  We  do  not  indeed  sup 
pose  that  any  transaction  has  ever  taken  place 


NATUKE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        257 

among  men  which  in  every  respect  is  a  parallel  to 
the  sacrificial  offering  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  there 
are  no  analogies  in  any  of  God's  procedures  with 
which  we  can  compare  it ;  it  is  a  procedure  per 
fectly  unique  in  its  nature,  without  parallels  and 
without  analogies  ;  and  yet  there  are  many  things 
which,  when  closely  examined,  furnish  us  with  a  key 
by  which  to  unlock  its  mysteries,  and  introduce  us 
to  an  acquaintance  with  their  meaning. 

Now,  when  we  look  at  the  revelations  of  the 
Bible  upon  this  subject,  we  find  a  being,  called  the 
Son  of  God,  presenting  exhibitions  which  shew  him 
to  be  more  than  human,  and  yet  clad  in  the  vest 
ments,  and  wearing  all  the  sinless  attributes  of 
humanity;  we  find  him  going  through  an  expe 
rience  of  shame,  suffering,  and  death.  The  untold 
agony  which  convulsed  his  frame,  and  the  deep 
anguish  which  preyed  upon  his  spirit,  invest  the 
scene  with  an  air  of  mystery.  We  feel  that  this 
suffering  must  have  some  connection  with  sin.  No 
man  can  read  the  record  of  the  garden  scene,  or 
the  scene  upon  the  cross  ;  can  trace  the  evidences 
of  mental  anguish  which  there  present  themselves, 
anguish  over  and  above,  and  entirely  different  in 
its  nature  from  that  which  was  connected  with  the 
external  circumstances  of  the  sufferer,  without  be 
ing  compelled  to  bring,  in  some  shape  or  form,  sin 
as  the  only  exponent  of  the  scene.  The  Bible  tells 
us  that  for  "  others'  guilt  the  man  of  sorrows  wept 
in  blood."  It  gives  the  detail  of  his  experience, 
and  as  we  read  it,  it  adds,  he  "  was  made  a  curse 
for  us ;"  he  "  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the 
17 


258        NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

tree."  "  God  liatli  set  him  forth  as  a  propitiation  to 
declare  his  righteousness  in  the  forgiveness  of  sin." 
The  doctrine  of  atonement,  as  I  gather  it  from  the 
inspired  testimony,  is  this :  that  God  has  substi 
tuted  the  sufferings  of  his  Son  in  place  of  the  pun 
ishment  of  the  guilty ;  and  that  those  sufferings  an 
swering  the  great  ends  of  justice  which  the  threat 
ened  penalty  contemplated,  constitute  a  good  valid 
reason  for  the  remission  of  the  penalty  itself.  This 
is  the  way  in  which  the  atonement  becomes  avail 
able  as  a  ground  of  forgiveness.  We  are  forgiven, 
if  we  know  any  thing  of  forgiveness,  only  because 
the  sufferings  of  Christ  have  come  in  the  place  of 
the  punishment  due  to  our  sins,  as  answering  the 
end  of  our  punishment  equally  well  and  much 
better. 

He  who  underwent  that  great  travail  of  his  soul, 
clothed  himself  with  our  nature,  and  became  one 
with  us,  not  simply  that  he  might  become  capable 
of  suffering,  but  that  he  might  identify  himself 
with  the  nature  of  sinful  man ;  that  the  same 
nature  which  had  sinned  might  suffer  ;  and  that  the 
relation  between  his  sufferings,  and  our  forgive 
ness,  might  be  at  once  and  clearly  perceived.  And 
as  we  look  at  the  whole  subject,  can  we  doubt  for 
a  moment,  that  his  sufferings  answered  the  great 
ends  of  justice,  and  preserved  unsullied  in  its  glory, 
and  unimpaired  in  its  sanctions,  the  law  which  had 
been  broken,  and  which  they  were  designed  to  sus 
tain  ?  The  infinite  dignity  of  his  person,  gave  an 
infinite  value  to  his  work.  The  higher  and  nobler 
the  subject  upon  whom,  in  case  of  transgression,  the 


NATUKE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.         259 

law  takes  its  course,  the  more  impressive  the  lesson 
taught  of  its  majesty,  and  the  mightier  the  enforce 
ment  given  to  its  sanctions.  And  if  the  Son  of 
God,  notwithstanding  the  excellence  and  dignity  of 
his  person  and  station,  was  not  spared  that  bitter 
cup  of  suffering,  when  he  consented  to  assume  the 
legal  responsibilities  of  the  transgressor,  what  an 
effective  lesson  is  taught  us  of  that  sternness  which 
belongs  to  the  righteousness  of  the  eternal  throne, 
and  of  the  certainty  that  sin  shall  receive  its  just 
award  ?  Take  any  view  of  penalty  you  please,  and 
see  if  its  ends  are  not  better  answered  upon  the 
cross.  What  lesson  does  it  teach,  which  is  not  bet 
ter  taught — what  warning  does  it  utter  which 
is  not  more  distinctly  heard' — what  security  for 
order  and  righteousness  is  gathered  from  it  which 
is  not  better  gathered  from  the  cross  ?  Every  thing 
which  punishment,  in  its  own  nature,  as  a  mere 
sanction  of  law,  involves,  is  involved  in  the  great 
sacrificial  offering  of  Jesus  Christ — and  more — for 
punishment,  strictly  speaking,  has  no  remedial 
influence  about  it.  Penalty  contemplates  not  so 
much  the  good  of  the  offender,  as  the  good  of  the 
community  or  state  whose  rights  he  has  outraged 
and  whose  interests  he  has  sacrificed.  The  atone 
ment  of  Jesus  Christ  contemplates  both.  By  one 
and  the  same  means,  it  upholds  and  illustrates  the 
righteousness  of  God,  and  reforms  and  renews  the 
guilty.  It  constitutes  the  mightiest,  nay  the  only 
power  which  can  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
alienated  heart,  and  recover  it  to  the  love  and  ser 
vice  of  its  rightful  Sovereign ;  and  thus  it  gives  to 


260       NATURE  OF  THE  ATOKEMENT. 

justice  all  its  claims,  and  affords  goodness  free  scope 
for  its  exercise ;  makes  kindness  to  the  sinner  con 
sistent  with  righteousness — blends  mercy  and  truth, 
good  will  and  justice  together,  shewing  to  every 
intelligent  being,  how  God  can  be  just  and  yet 
justify  the  sinner.  And  if  this  is  so,  what  difficulty 
can  there  be  in  clearly  comprehending  the  doctrine 
of  atonement,  when  it  amounts  simply  to  this : 
the  sufferings  of  Christ  are  substituted  in  the  place 
of  my  punishment,  and  thus  secure  my  forgive 
ness,  while  they  answer  a  much  better  end,  and 
teach  far  more  impressively  all  the  lessons  of 
penalty,  than  my  punishment  could  in  any  circum 
stance  possibly  have  done. 

To  sustain  this  view  of  atonement,  I  know  we 
must  consider  the  sufferings  of  Christ  as  strictly 

o  */ 

vicarious — to  be  available  to  me  as  a  sinner,  those 
sufferings  must  come  in  the  place  of  my  punish 
ment.  I  can,  upon  no  other  principle,  understand 
the  doctrine  of  atonement ;  and  if  I  greatly  mis 
take  not  the  spirit  of  the  Bible,  this  idea  pervades 
and  gives  meaning  to  all  its  teachings.  The  very 
terms  which  it  uses  to  describe  the  Redeemer's 
work,  are  borrowed  from  sacrificial  offerings,  every 
one  of  which  in  its  own  nature  implies  a  transfer 
of  some  kind  froni  the  person  sacrificing  to  the 
victim  sacrificed.  The  whole  Jewish  ritual,  which 
derived  its  meaning  and  importance  and  value 
from  a  Redeemer's  atonement,  which  was,  in  fact, 
but  a  shadow  of  good  things  to  come,  is  full  of  the 
same  idea — and  when  you  see,  under  that  ritual, 
the  offender  bringing  his  victim  to  the  altar — when 


NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.         261 

you  see  the  liigli  priest,  on  the  great  day  of  expia 
tion,  confessing  the  sins  of  the  whole  congregation 
over  the  head  of  the  scape  goat,  it  would  be  mar 
vellously  strange,  if,  when  we  come  to  the  suffer 
ings  of  Christ,  which  they  were  intended  to  typify, 
we  should  find  nothing  at  all  to  correspond  with 
the  essential  idea  of  the  type.  We  confess  to  our 
fixed,  settled  conviction  on  this  point,  that  if  you 
take  away  from  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  the  idea  of 
a  strict  substitution,  and  convert  it  into  a  mere 
instructive  or  declarative  lesson,  you  take  away 
that  which  constitutes  the  very  nature  of  atone 
ment,  and  render  the  whole  story  of  our  Redeem 
er's  passion  a  tale  of  inexplicable  mystery.  With 
out  this  idea,  the  Bible,  to  my  mind,  is  a  sealed 
book.  I  may  open  its  pages  and  read,  but  upon 
every  leaf  there  rest  "  shadows,  clouds,  and  dark 
ness,"  which  conceal  the  meaning  of  every  one  of 
its  passages  from,  my  view. 

And  yet,  while  I  stand  so  strongly  by  the  vica- 
riousness  of  Christ's  sacrifice,  as  an  essential  truth 
of  revelation,  I  am  not  to  be  considered  as  inti 
mating  that  there  is  any  thing  like  a  transfer  of 
personal  character  or  desert  from  the  guilty  to 
their  surety.  We  do  not  require  to  be  told  that 
sin  and  righteousness  are  moral  and  personal  qual 
ities  and  acts,  and  therefore  cannot  be  transferred 
— we  know  it.  The  beings  for  whom  Christ  suf 
fered,  are  none  the  less  sinners  because  Christ 
suffered  for  them,  nor  was  Christ  the  less  innocent 
because  he  "  bare  their  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the 
tree  ;"  and  yet,  while  we  agree  to  the  moral  impos- 


262        NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

sibility  of  transferring  moral  qualities  or  acts,  we 
see  no  such  impossibility  in  transferring  their  legal 
connections.  Such  a  principle  is  common  in  the 
administration  of  God — to  a  certain  extent,  it  is 
common  in  the  transactions  of  human  govern 
ments;  and,  while  we  see  children  suffering  every 
day  for  the  sins  of  their  forefathers,  in  which  they 
had  no  agency ;  while  men  suffer  for  the  mistakes, 
the  faults,  the  sins  of  their  rulers  and  representa 
tives,  which  they  themselves  abhor  and  disavow,  it 
is  idle  for  any  one  to  say  that  it  is  absurd  to  sup 
pose  that  Christ  could  assume  the  liabilities  of  the 
guilty,  and  so  "suffer  the  just  for  the  unjust." 

Nor  do  we  mean  that  the  vicariousness  of  Christ's 
sacrifice  implies  that  the  threatened  penalty  of  the 
law  was  literally  inflicted  upon  him,  and  that  he 
suffered  in  kind  and  amount  precisely  what  all  men 
would  have  suffered  had  he  not  offered  his  atone 
ment.  Such  a  notion,  constituting  as  it  does  the 
only  idea  which  some  men  have  of  atonement,  is,  to 
nay  the  least  of  it,  exceedingly  crude ;  and  when 
examined  is  seen  to  be  wholly  untenable.  In  the 
very  nature  of  things  penalty  inflicted  upon  the 
personally  guilty  must  be  different  from  the  suffer 
ing  for  sin  endured  by  one  who  is  personally  inno 
cent.  If  I  choose  to  step  in  between  an  offender 
and  a  violated  statute  to  screen  him  from  punish 
ment  by  suffering  in  his  place  that  which  will  honour 
and  sustain  the  law,  it  is  perfectly  absurd  to  say  that 
my  experience  must  be  precisely  the  same  with  the 
experience  of  the  offender,  as  it  would  have  been 
had  he  endured  the  threatened  penalty ;  the  ab- 


NATUUE  OP  THE  ATONEMENT.         263 

sence,  in  the  one  case,  and  the  presence  in  the  other 
case  of  all  sense  of  personal  sinfulness  and  desert 
of  punishment,  must  essentially  alter  the  expe 
rience.  The  sufferings  of  the  Eedeemer,  therefore, 
could  not  possibly  have  been  what  the  penalty  of 
the  law  would  have  been  had  it  been  literally  in 
flicted  on  the  personal  offenders. 

The  idea,  moreover,  that  the  atonement  of  Christ 
consisted  in  his  suffering  what  those  for  whom  he 
atoned  deserved  to  suffer,  is,  in  my  apprehension, 
a  contradiction  of  the  very  nature  of  atonement. 
Its  source  is  goodness,  as  its  design  is  to  diminish 
the  amount  of  suffering  resulting  from  sin ;  and  its 
wisdom  is  apparent  from  the  fact,  that  it  secures 
the  great  ends  of  the  divine  government  at  a  less 
expense  than  the  literal  infliction  of  the  penalty 
upon  all  offenders.  But  if  Christ  suffered  in  kind 
and  amount  precisely  what  all  the  redeemed 
would  have  suffered,  what  is  gained  ?  where  is  the 
goodness,  where  is  the  wisdom  of  God's  wondrous 
plan  of  mercy  ?  There  is  just  as  much  suffering 
with  the  atonement  as  there  would  have  been 
without  it ;  and  nothing,  absolutely  nothing  is 
gained  by  this  wondrous  expedient,  which  fills  all 
heaven  with  astonishment,  which  is  to  give  its 
greatest  glory  and  brightness  to  a  world  of  light, 
and  pour  its  richness  and  sweetness  into  its  eternal 
song,  but  a  simple  transfer  of  punishment  from  the 
guilty  to  the  innocent.  We  have  no  such  idea  of 
atonement.  The  sufferings  of  the  Redeemer  were 
indeed  vicarious,  strictly  so,  inasmuch  as  he  stood 
in  the  place  of  man  when  he  suffered — putting  his 


264        NATUEE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

endurances  in  the  place  of  human  punishment,  en 
durances  which  deriving  their  value  from  the  dig 
nity  of  the  sufferer,  were  a  full  equivalent  for  the 
punishment  remitted,  and  served  amply  to  com 
pensate  for  the  absence  of  its  infliction. 

I  am  perfectly  aware,  my  brethren,  that  notwith 
standing  all  these  explanations,  we  may  be  told 
that  we  do  not  meet  the  real  difficulty  of  the  case, 
which  grows  out  of  the  fact,  that  the  doctrine  of 
atonement  still  supposes,  after  all,  a  substitution  of 
the  innocent  for  the  guilty,  an  exaction  from  one 
wTho  never  sinned  of  that  wThich  justice  could  claim 
from  the  transgressor  alone ;  and  there  are  not  a 
few  who  think  that  such  a  substitution  is  wholly 
inconsistent  with  the  principles  of  an  upright  ad 
ministration  ;  it  supposes,  we  are  told,  God  doing 
that  which  is  unjust,  in  order  to  maintain  justice. 

And  yet  I  cannot  possibly  see  the  difficulty, 
because  I  find  the  principle  of  the  atonement,  that 
of  substitution,  interwoven  in  the  very  texture  of  the 
human  mind,  and  in  all  the  operations  of  human 
society.  Yes,  this  doctrine  of  men's  being  bene- 
fitted  or  injured  by  the  acts  of  others,  in  which 
they  took  no  part,  is  the  very  soul  of  the  social 
system,  the  life-spring  of  intercourse  among  men, 
and  the  affairs  of  the  world  could  not  move  on  one 
step  without  it.  We  find  the  same  principle  per 
vading  the  administration  of  God  ;  and  while  chil 
dren  suffer  for  the  wickedness,  or  are  blessed  for 
the  righteousness  of  their  forefathers ;  while  God 
pours  out  the  vials  of  his  wrrath  upon  the  posterity 
of  those  who  betrayed  his  truth,  and  shed  the 


NATUKE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.         265 

blood  of  his  people  ;  while  we  read  that  "  in  Adam 
all  die,"  and  see  thousands  of  Adam's  children,  be 
fore  they  can  distinguish  between  their  right  hand 
and  their  left,  writhing  in  agony,  and  sinking  into 
death,  in  consequence  of  his  transgression,  in  which 
they  took  no  part,  we  have  facts  to  prove  that 
substitution  is  not  inconsistent  with  God's  adminis 
tration,  and  that  upon  the  very  same  principle  upon 
which  men  die  in  Adam,  they  may  be  made  alive  in 
Christ. 

Now,  to  apply  this  principle  to  the  case  in  hand. 
If  there  is  any  injustice  in  the  substitution  of 
Christ,  it  must  be  injustice  to  the  person  who  is 
forgiven,  or  injustice  to  Christ  who  suffered,  or  in 
justice  to  the  interests  of  God's  kingdom,  which 
demanded  the  punishment  of  the  offender.  If  the 
sinner  is  not  injured,  and  Christ  is  not  injured,  and 
the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  injured,  where  is  the 
injustice  ?  In  all  earthly  administration,  a  magis 
trate  may  do  wrong  in  allowing  a  substitute  to 
take  the  place  of  a  murderer  ;  that  substitute  may 
have  no  right  to  lay  down  his  life,  and  the  com 
munity  might  justly  complain  that  a  valuable 
member  of  society  had  been  withdrawn  in  place  of 
a  worthless  one,  and  that  thus  the  securities  of  its 
interests  were  diminished  rather  than  increased. 
But  in  the  case  of  the  atonement,  Christ  had  a 
right  over  his  own  life,  and  voluntarily  gave  it  for 
the  life  of  men.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  then  the 
substitution  would  have  been  inadmissible.  We 
admit,  moreover,  that  any  substitution,  which 
would  have  told  out  in  less  impressive  and  over- 


266         NATURE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

coming  tones,  than  the  punishment  of  the  trans 
gressors  would  have  done,  thenature  and  conse 
quences  of  sin,  would  have  been  inconsistent  with 
God's  character,  and  unjust,  because  injurious  to 
the  well-being  of  God's  kingdom.  But  who  can 
make  such  a  supposition  concerning  the  arrange 
ment  by  virtue  of  which  Christ  "  bare  our  sins  in 
his  own  body  on  the  tree"  ?  Who  will  say  that 
the  majesty  of  law  was  less  rigorously  asserted, 
when  he  who  was  "  in  the  beginning  with  God," 
sunk  under  his  woes,  than  it  would  have  been,  had 
the  whole  population  of  the  globe  been  ground  to 
powder  under  the  weight  of  divine  indignation  ? 
Who  will  venture  on  the  bold  statement,  that  as 
piercing  a  voice  would  have  gone  out  through  the 
peopled  immensity  from  the  wailing  cry  of  the  lost 
children  of  our  race,  given  up  hopelessly  to  the 
penalties  of  their  transgression,  as  now  issues  from 
the  cross  on  which  Christ  was  bruised  by  the 
Father,  that  he  might  reconcile  man  unto  himself? 
So  far  from  there  being  any  room  for  such  a  sup 
position,  if  there  is  any  thing  which  can  make  a 
man  fear  to  sin,  it  is  the  atonement,  in  its  myste 
rious  awfulness.  There  is  a  power  in  the  scenes  of 
Gethsemane  and  Calvary,  which  could  not  be  sur 
passed  or  equalled,  if  we  had  present  before  us  all 
the  torments  of  all  the  lost.  The  overwhelming 
thing  about  the  atonement  is  that  "  God  spared 
not  his  own  Son."  A  substituted  angel  would 
have  made  sin  appear  "  exceeding  sinful ;"  but 
when  we  go  beyond  the  angel,  and  have  before  us 
the  substitute,  incomprehensible  indeed,  yet  con- 


NATUKE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        267 

fessedly  "  the  brightness  of  his  Father's  glory,  and 
the  express  image  of  his  person ;"  when  we  find 
that  his  dignity  is  no  shield  against  suffering,  but 
that  he  is  reckoned  with  rigidly  and  unflinchingly, 
so  that  the  poison  of  death  for  a  time  overcomes 
him,  oh !  then  there  is  set  in  array  before  us,  such 
an  exhibition  of  God's  thoughts  of  sin,  and  deter 
mination  to  punish  it,  as  leaves  far  behind  the 
highest  picture  which  the  imagination  can  sketch, 
of  the  whole  earth  visited  with  the  extreme  of  di 
vine  indignation.  If  thus  there  is  no  injury  done 
to  the  securities  of  righteousness,  which  indeed  are 
strengthened  ;  if  there  is  no  injury  done  to  Christ, 
who  voluntarily  became  our  surety ;  if  no  injury  is 
done  to  us,  who  receive  redemption  through  his 
blood,  where  is  the  injustice  of  that  atonement 
which  was  wrought  out  by  Christ's  redeeming  us 
from  the  curse  of  the  law,  as  he  became  a  curse  for 
us  ? 

This,  my  brethren,  is  the  view  of  the  nature  of 
Christ's  sacrificial  offering,  and  its  vindication, 
which  I  would  desire  to  commend  to  your  rational 
faith.  And  I  am  the  more  earnest  in  insisting 
upon  clear  views  here,  because  I  apprehend  many 
have  ]ittle  or  no  distinct  notion  of  atonement,  and 
therefore  are  so  easily  carried  about  by  every  wind 
of  doctrine.  If  we  could  but  incorporate  these 
views  among  men's  elements  of  thought,  we  should 
be  satisfied ;  we  should  fear  neither  the  inroads  of 
heresy  on  the  one  hand,  "nor  the  baneful  influences 
of  mere  formalism  on  the  other.  Study  the  atone 
ment,  gain  clear  and  discriminating  views  of  the 


268         NATUKE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

work  of  the  Redeemer,  and  we  know  you  will  stand 
firmly  by  every  essential  principle  of  evangelical 
truth.  Be  loose,  or  wrong  in  your  notions  here, 
and  in  reference  to  no  one  point  of  religious  truth 
can  you  have  clear  or  correct  apprehensions. 

I  insist  upon  clear  views  here,  because  without 
them,  we  cannot  feel  the  power  of  the  gospel.  It 
is  not  the  simple  proffer  of  forgiveness,  which  gives 
to  the  gospel  message  such  a  penetrating  and  affect 
ing  character,  but  it  is  the  awful,  fearful,  wonderful 
fact,  upon  which  that  offer  is  based.  When  we 
listen  to  the  proclamations  of  the  gospel,  if  we 
would  feel  their  power,  we  must  listen  to  them  as 
utterances  from  the  cross.  It  is  not  enough  that 
there  be  laid  before  us  a  picture  of  man,  brought 
out  from  that  condition  in  which  sin  had  placed 
him,  and  again  brightening  in  the  smile  of  his  Ma 
ker.  It  is  not  enough,  though  it  may  waken  in  you 
emotions  of  gladness  and  wonder,  that  you  should 
be  addressed  with  the  tidings  of  mercy,  and  that 
the  ambassadors  of  God  should  make  proclamation 
that  pardon  now  requires  only  penitence.  In  that 
picture,  radiant  though  it  be  with  the  glorious  and 
the  beautiful,  there  would  be  one  spot  hung  with 
thick  clouds  and  darkness,  but  from  this  spot  would 
issue  all  the  light  which  falls  so  beautifully  and 
transport! ngly  on  every  other  part.  We  need  not 
tell  you,  that  this  spot  is  Calvary — a  spot  on  which, 
indeed,  the  sun  dared  not  shine,  but  which,  never 
theless,  is  the  centre  of  illumination,  whence  the 
beams  go  forth  to  irradiate  and  give  life  to  a  world 
in  the  darkness  and  horror  of  spiritual  death.  Witli 


NATUKE  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.         269 

the  gladdening  proclamation  of  life,  there  should 
always   be  made  mention   of  the  dreadful  death 
which  secured  it — the  death,  I  need  hardly  tell  you, 
of  that  mysterious  "being,  that  "  word  made  flesh," 
who  indeed  yielded  to  the  curse,  but  who  by  yield 
ing,  abolished  it,  yea,  converted  it  into  a  blessing. 
If  we  would  feel  the  power  of  the  reconciliation, 
we  must  understand  the  process  by  which  it  is 
brought  about.     It  can   hardly  fail   to   make   us 
listen  with  deeper  interest  to  the  offer  of  pardon, 
and  shun  with  greater  fear  the  idea  of  neglecting 
or   resisting  it.     Christ,    Christ  in  his    deep,    un 
known,  mysterious  agony  in   the   garden ;    Christ 
bearing   our   sins  in  his   own  body  on  the  tree. 
Oh !   remember,  when  in  the   Master's   name  we 
offer  you  forgiveness,  it  is  the  result  of  this  untold 
anguish,  this  immeasurable  sacrifice.     And  if  you 
do,  what  a  lesson  does  it  teach  you,  not  only  of 
your  own  sinfulness,  which  demanded  such  an  offer 
ing,  but  of  the  love  of  God  which  provided  it. 
You  cannot  comprehend  this  thought  without  feel 
ing  that  "  herein  is  love."     You  may  trace  love  in 
the  arrangements  of  Providence,  in  the  furniture 
of  the  universe,  in  the  operations  of  nature ;  yet 
you  must  fall  back  upon  the  cross  as  that  Avhich 
transcends  every  other  manifestation,  and  say, "  here 
in  is  love."    If  it  had  not  cost  God  much  to  redeem 
us,  if  man  might  have  been  saved  as  man  had  been 
created,  by  an  act  of  will,  by  a  word  of  mouth, 
then,  perhaps,  we  should  not  have  been  staggered 
by  the  wonderfulness  of  the  love.     But  when  you 
remember  the  obstacles  to  be  surmounted  ere  the 


'270  NATURE    OF   THE    ATONEMENT. 

purpose  could  be  reached,  when  you  remember 
that,  unlike  creation,  redemption  required  an  effort 
on  the  part  of  God,  (and,  oh  !  what  an  effort)  you 
cannot  fail  to  be  confounded  by  the  love,  and  to 
confess  that  of  all  mysterious,  overpowering,  sub 
duing  truths,  this  is  the  most  mysterious,  overpow 
ering,  subduing,  and,  at  the  same  time,  most  encou 
raging.  God  gave  his  Son  "  to  be  the  propitiation 
for  our  sins  ;"  and  when  you  go  hence,  take  the 
gospel,  read  the  account  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ. 
Head  it  with  true  prayer  to  God  that  he  would 
take  away  the  "  heart  of  stone,"  and  give  you  "  a 
heart  of  flesh ;"  and  we  cannot  but  think  that  you 
will  know  the  gushings  of  a  penitent  and  thankful 
spirit,  and  feel  a  thrill  of  joy  and  hope  at  the  an 
nouncement.  "  Christ  has  redeemed  us  from  the 
curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a  curse  for  us." 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 


"  And  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins,  and  not  for  ours  only,  but 
also  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world."  —  FIRST  EPISTLE  OF  ST.  JOHN,  ii.  2, 


amplitude  and  all-sufficiency  of  God's  pro 
vision  for  the  lost,  is  a  no  less  important  article  of 
the  Christian  faith,  than  the  fact  itself,  that  such  a 
provision  has  been  made.  Every  one  must  feel,  the 
moment  the  subject  is  laid  before  him  clearly,  that 
the  value  of  the  atonement,  to  any  one,  is  insepara 
ble  from  its  sufficiency  for  all.  To  tell  me  in  my 
sorrows,  under  a  sin-oppressed  conscience,  that  pro 
vision  is  made  for  forgiveness,  and  yet  to  cast  sus 
picion  upon  its  fulness,  is  but-  to  awaken  a  hope, 
the  warrant  of  which  is  uncertain,  because  it  leaves 
me  entirely  in  the  dark  upon  the  question,  whether 
that  provision  is  within  my  reach.  There  is  no 
thing  here  to  relieve  my  straitened  spirit,  nothing 
to  authorize  my  confidence  ;  so  far  as  all  practical 
effects  are  concerned,  I  am  in  very  much  the  same 
condition  as  before  the  announcement  of  pardon, 
through  the  atonement,  was  made.  Better  not  say 
any  thing  of  forgiveness  of  sin,  if  in  the  same 
breath  you  must  suggest^  a  doubt  as  to  the  possi. 


272        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

bility  of  my  forgiveness.  You  do  "but  make  my 
case  the  more  wretched,  as  you  awaken  a  hope  only 
for  the  purpose  of  destroying  it. 

The  great  question  which  throws  its  overwhelm 
ing  burden  upon  the  mind,  in  view  of  its  spiritual 
relations,  is,  after  all,  a  personal  question — it  relates 
to  my  own  individual  circumstances  and  hopes; 
The  value  of  the  gospel,  therefore,  to  me  as  a  sin 
ner,  grows  out  of  the  answer  which  it  furnishes  to 
this  question.  The  mere  fact  that  God  can  forgive 
sin,  is  nothing,  except  as  it  is  brought  home  to  my 
own  personal  interests.  The  pages  upon  which 
that  fact  is  announced,  may  beam  with  the  bright  and 
the  beautiful,  but  if  they  do  not  bring  home  to  me, 
as  an  individual,  this  truth  as  a  certainty,  that  God 
can  be  just  and  forgive  my  sin,  they  have  no  bright 
ness  and  beauty  for  me ;  they  do  but  put  me  in  the 
condition  of  the  famishing  wretch,  who  is  told  of 
abundance,  but  not  that  he  may  touch  it,  or  the  vic 
tim  of  some  dreadful  disease,  who  is  told  of  a  cer 
tain  remedy,  but  not  how  he  may  reach  it. 

The  question,  then,  as  to  the  extent  of  the  atone 
ment,  is  not  a  question,  as  some  men  would  have  us 
believe,  of  mere  speculative  theology,  but  one  of  vast 
practical  interest.  Every  man  can  understand  its 
importance,  if  he  will  but  observe  how  the  whole 
aspect  of  the  gospel  will  vary ;  how  its  power  over 
his  own  spirit  will  be  increased  or  diminished,  ac 
cording  to  the  views  which  lie  may  take  of  this 
single  question  ;  and  I  cannot,  therefore,  think  that 
I  am  giving  myself  up  to  a  useless  task,  or  one 
without  its  interest  to  all  my  hearers,  when  I  under- 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        273 

take  to  agitate,  for  the  purpose  of  reaching  a  sat 
isfactory  conclusion,  the  inquiry  as  to  the  extent  of 
the  atonement  of  Jesus  Christ. 

I  need  not  say  to  nay  hearers,  that  in  taking  up 
this  subject,  we  are  entering  upon  disputed  ground. 
The  Christian  world  here  presents  to  us  opposite 
extremes  of  opinion,  as  well  as  diversities.  If  we 
except,  on  the  one  hand,  those  who  put  a  limitation 
upon  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  Redeemer's  sacrifice, 
who  by  a  kind  of  arithmetical  process,  estimate  the 
worth  of  atonement  by  the  number  of  those  whom 
it  actually  saves ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  those  who 
infer  universal  salvation  as  a  necessary  consequence 
from  the  atonement  of  Jesus  Christ — extremes  of 
opinion  held  by  comparatively  few  in  the  Chris 
tian  church,  and  with  neither  of  which  we  can  sym 
pathize — the  remaining  discrepancies  are,  I  appre 
hend,  for  the  most  part,  the  result  rather  of  misap 
prehension,  than  of  any  opposition  of  view.  It  is 
perfectly  obvious,  that  the  same  object  will  strike 
persons  differently,  as  they  look  upon  it  from  dif 
ferent  points,  and  consider  it  in  different  relations ; 
while  if  they  look  upon  it  in  the  same  light,  they  are 
perfectly  harmonious  in  their  views.  So  the  man 
who  looks  at  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  in  view  of 
some  secret  purpose  of  God,  and  of  the  actual  re 
sults  which  shall  flow  from  it,  becomes  the  stern 
and  unflinching  advocate  of  limited  atonement, 
and  seems  to  be  directly  at  war  with  another,  who, 
looking  at  the  intrinsic  nature  of  the  sacrifice  of 

O 

Christ,  and  its  adaptation  to  other  and  larger,  and 
more  general  results,  becomes  the  no  less  stern  and 
18 


274        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

unflinching  advocate  of  unlimited  atonement,  while 
in  reality  the  difference  of  opinion  between  them 
is  not  what  at  first  sight  it  might  appear  to  be. 

In  defining  niy  own  position,  and  stating  what  I 
consider  to  be  the  scriptural  truth  upon  the  sub 
ject,  I  must  be  permitted  to  exhibit  what  I  con 
sider  to  be  the  true  state  of  the  question,  so  as  to 
prevent  all  possibility  of  misconception. 

There  is,  I  apprehend,  a  distinction  to  be  always 
carefully  maintained,  between  the  work  of  atone 
ment  and  the  work  of  redemption.  The  one  does 
not  necessarily  imply  the  other ;  redemption  in 
cludes  atonement,  but  it  includes  more  ;  it  includes 
its  actual  results  ;  it  is  the  application  of  the  atone 
ment  issuing  in  final  and  complete  salvation.  The 
one,  therefore,  in  its  nature  may  be  more  exten 
sive  than  the  other.  An  unredeemed  sinner  has 
even  now  a  deep  interest  in  the  atoning  sacrifice  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  whether  eventually  lost  or  saved, 
will  feel  that  interest  through  the  ages  of  his 
deathless  being.  With  this  understanding,  re 
demption  certainly  is  not  general;  and  to  affirm 
that  it  is  limited  is  but  stating  the  plainly  revealed 
fact,  that  all  men  will  not  be  saved. 

In  the  view  which  we  take  of  the  subject,  more 
over,  we  separate  the  nature  of  the  atonement  from 
any  secret  unrevealed  purpose  of  the  infinite  mind 
respecting  its  application.  We  do  not  deny  the 
existence  of  such  a  purpose ;  so  far  from  it  that  we 
cannot  conceive  of  an  intelligent,  all-wise  being 
acting  in  any  thing  without  design,  and  we  cannot, 
without  detracting  from  the  honour  and  glory  of 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.         2V5 

him  who  is  no  less  wise  than  holy  in  all  his  works, 
suppose  otherwise  than  that  in  this  great  plan,  and 
I  may  add  effort  of  forgiving  mercy,  he  had  in 
view  some  certain,  specific  results.  We  do  not  "be 
lieve  that  the  issue  of  the  atonement  is  in  the  infi 
nite  mind  an  open  question.  The  results  of  a  Ke- 
deemer's  work  are  not  contingent  results.  They 
are  absolutely  certain.  It  is  fixed,  unalterably 
fixed,  that  the  Saviour  is  to  be  rewarded  for  his  life 
of  toil  and  ignominy,  and  his  death  of  shame  and 
agony.  He  is  to  "  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul  and 
to  be  satisfied ;"  and  a  multitude  greater  than  any 
man  can  number,  of  those  who  "  have  washed  their 
robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb,"  shall  give  grace  and  glory  to  his  triumph. 
But  the  ultimate  design  of  the  atonement  as  it 
exists  in  the  mind  of  God,  is  a  very  different  thing 
from  the  nature  of  the  atonement  itself,  as  it  is 
spread  out  before  our  view  upon  the  pages  of 
revealed  truth.  The  question  before  us  is  not, 
what  God  intends  to  accomplish  by  virtue  of  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ ;  not  how  far  the  efficacy  of  that 
sacrifice  will  in  point  of  fact  reach  ;  for  upon  these 
questions  God  has  thrown  a  veil  of  impenetrable 
darkness ;  but  what  is  the  great  moral,  revealed 
purpose  of  the  atonement;  what  is  its  intrinsic 
value  and  sufficiency ;  how  far  is  it  available  in  its 
own  nature  to  the  salvation  of  men  ?  Did  God 
mean  to  spread  it  over  only  a  part,  or  the  whole  of 
the  race  ?  Are  men,  all  men,  as  lost  winners,  so  in 
terested  in  the  atoning  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  that 
they  may,  if  they  will,  be  saved  by  it  ?  This  is  the 


276  EXTENT   OF   TIIE   ATONEMENT. 

question,  and  we  unhesitatingly  take  the  affirma 
tive.  Our  position  is,  that  through  the  sacrifice  of 
Christ,  God  can  be  just,  and  yet  forgive.  Such  is 
the  character  of  the  atonement,  that  "  it  would  com 
port  with  the  glory  of  the  divine  character,  the 
sustentation  of  God's  government,  the  obligation 
and  honour  of  his  law,  and  the  good  of  the  rational 
and  moral  system,  to  save  all  men,  provided  they 
accepted  of  Christ."  "Every  legal  bar  and  ob 
struction  in  the  way  of  the  salvation  of  all  men  is 
removed."*  Such  is  the  nature  and  efficacy  of  the 
atonement  of  the  Son  of  God,  that  the  relations  not 
merely  of  some  men,  but  of  the  entire  race,  are 
totally  different  from  what  they  would  have  been, 
had  the  Saviour  never  suffered  and  died  ;  different, 
I  mean,  in  this  sense,  that  since  this  great  atoning 
sacrifice  has  been  offered,  God  can  upon  the  ground 
of  it  consistently  pardon  the  sins  of  all,  and  no 
thing  now  shuts  a  man  out  from  forgiveness  and 
hope,  but  his  own  unwillingness  to  accept  of  the 
offers  of  mercy  made  to  him  in  the  gospel.  Such 
is  the  view  of  the  fulness  of  the  atonement  which 
we  desire  to  advocate,  and  which  we  would  fain 
commend  to  the  intelligent  faith  of  our  hearers. 

And  in  proceeding  to  the  illustration  of  this 
general  view,  I  cannot  but  think  that  we  have,  at 
least,  strong  presumptive  proof  of  its  correctness 
in  that  characteristic  of  universality  which  marks 
other  of  God's  dispensations.  All  the  laws  by  which 
he  governs  the  different  systems  are  general  in 
their  character,  all  his  arrangements  for  our  world 

^Associate  Reformed  Synod's  Report,  p.  53. 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        277 

are  made  upon  general  principles.  He  has  placed 
Ms  sun  in  the  heavens  to  give  light  unto  every 
man  who  cometh  into  the  world.  He  sendeth  his 
rain  upon  the  entire  surface  of  the  earth.  "  He 
causeth  his  sun  to  rise  upon  the  evil  and  the  good, 
and  his  rains  to  descend  upon  the  just  and  the  un 
just."  The  same  thing  would  be  true  though  the 
population  of  the  world  were  increased  a  thousand 
fold,  and  the  earth's  surface  vastly  enlarged.  In 
this  case,  we  should  need  no  other  sun  to  lighten 
the  world,  no  other  laws  to  regulate  the  earth's 
productiveness  under  the  refreshing  showers  of 
heaven ;  and  though  half  the  population  of  the 
world  should  be  smitten  with  blindness,  still  the 
sun  would  shine  as  brightly  as  ever,  and  still  it 
would  be  true  that  it  would  enlighten  the  world, 
and  the  rains  fall  upon  the  sterile  earth  and  the 
impervious  rock  as  well  as  upon  the  thirsty  fields 
and  the  fertile  soil.  It  is  changing  the  question 
entirely,  and  carrying  the  mind  away  to  another 
subject  altogether,  to  say  that  God  did  not  surely 
mean,  when  he  put  his  sun  in  the  heavens,  to  give 
light  unto  him  who  refused  to  open  his  eyes ;  or 
when  he  sent  his  rain  upon  the  earth,  to  fructify 
the  barren  rock.  We  would  consider  him  a  very 
silly  reasoner  who  should  argue  against  the  general 
character  of  God's  arrangements  for  the  natural 
system,  from  the  fact  that  some  men  could  not  or 
would  not  open  their  eyes ;  and  the  fact  that  the 
earth  presented  a  surface  as  well  of  rock  as  of  soil. 
All  we  need  to  establish  the  general  nature  of  his 
provision,  is,  that  the  sun  is  designed  to  give  light 


278        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

to  all  who  will  open  their  eyes  to  behold  it,  and 
the  rain  is  designed  to  refresh  and  fructify  the 
earth  wherever  there  is  a  capacity  of  production. 
That  man  certainly  does  not  understand  God's 
works,  who  imagines  that  if  one  now  blind  should 

O 

recover  his  sight,  a  new  sun  must  be  created,  or  the 
light  of  the  present  sun  must  be  increased ;  or  if  a 
single  pebble  upon  the  earth's  surface  should  be 
converted  into  soil,  a  new  arrangement  must  be 
made  to  meet  the  increased  demand  for  moisture. 
The  light  of  the  sun  is  enough  for  all ;  the  rains  of 
heaven  are  enough  for  all.  And  if  a  man  does  not 
see  the  light,  the  reason  is  in  himself  and  not  in  the 
sun,  or  in  any  purpose  of  God  respecting  its  nature 
when  he  set  the  sun  in  the  firmament ;  and  if  the 
surface  of  the  earth  is  not  fertile,  the  reason  must 
be  in  itself,  not  in  the  rain  which  descends  upon  it, 
nor  in  any  purpose  of  God  which  respects  its 
falling. 

This  illustration,  which  we  have  borrowed  from 
analogy,  is  perfectly  simple  and  level  to  the  com 
prehension  of  every  one;  and  so  far  as  the  argu 
ment  from  analogy  goes,  it  demonstrates  the  gene 
ral  character  of  Christ's  atonement,  and  meets  and 
removes  all  the  objections  which  are  usually  urged 
against  it.  If,  when  we  pass  over  the  line  which 
separates  the  spiritual  from  the  natural  world,  we 
are  arrested  in  our  progress,  and  told  that  the  two 
are  entirely  distinct  from  each  other,  and  therefore 
the  principles  of  the  one  do  not  and  cannot  furnish 
us  with  any  key  to  the  interpretation  of  the  prin 
ciples  of  the  other,  we  cannot  be  considered  unrea- 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        2Y9 

sonable,  if  we  are  not  satisfied  with  a  mere  assump 
tion,  and  ask  for  some  proof  of  the  doctrine  which 
is  thus  unceremoniously  thrown  in  our  pathway. 
For  ourselves,  we  believe  that  in  the  respects 
already  mentioned,  the  provisions  of  God  in  the 
natural  and  spiritual  worlds  run  perfectly  parallel 
with  each  other.  The  same  characteristic  of  uni 
versality  belongs  to  both,  and  the  same  difficulties 
(if  any)  are  found  in  both.  And  we  question 
whether  a  single  objection  to  a  general  atonement 
can  be  brought  forward,  which  may  not  be  urged 
with  equal  force  against  plain  and  palpable  facts. 

Having  cast  our  eye  abroad  over  the  arrange 
ments  of  nature,  and  observed  the  principles  by 
which  they  are  all  manifestly  pervaded,  we  turn 
now  to  the  word  of  revelation,  which  unfolds  God's 
gracious  arrangements  for  the  spiritual  world,  that 
we  may  see  how  far  they  sustain  us  in  our  supposi 
tion  of  the  parallel  between  the  dispensations  of 
nature  and  of  grace. 

And  here  you  cannot  fail  to  be  struck,  my 
brethren,  with  the  character  of  universality  which 
marks  the  terms  in  which  the  Bible  speaks  of  the 
sacrificial  work  of  Jesus  Christ.  "  God  so  loved 
the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  him  might  not  perish,  but 
might  have  everlasting  life."  "  Christ  gave  himself 
a  ransom  for  all."  He  is  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  who 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  "  He  was 
made  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  that  he  by  the 
grace  of  God  should  taste  death  for  every  man ;" 
and  "  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins,  and  not  for 


280        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world." 
Language  like  this  cannot  well  be  mistaken.  I 
may  add,  it  can  have  no  meaning,  if  it  does  not 
convey  distinctly  the  idea,  that  every  member  of 
our  apostate  race  has  a  positive  interest  in  the  atone 
ment  of  Jesus  Christ. 

To  a  certain  extent,  this  general  thought  is  ad 
mitted,  even  by  those  who  question  the  universality 
of  the  atonement  as  a  spiritual  provision.  It  is  not 
denied  that  the  arrangements  of  God,  so  far  as 
man's  interests  for  time  are  concerned,  are  very  es 
sentially  modified  by  the  mediation  of  Jesus  Christ, 
There  is  not  a  human  being  in  our  world,  believer 
or  unbeliever,  whose  circumstances  are  not,  at  the 
present  moment,  vastly  different  from  what  they 
would  have  been,  had  the  Redeemer  never  suffered 
and  died.  This  much,  at  least,  has  been  effected 
by  his  intervention,  that  the  execution  of  the  curse 
has  been  staid,  and  men,  though  sinners,  live 
in  a  world  of  light  and  peace.  The  comforts  of 
men's  earthly  lot,  the  joys  of  their  social  condition, 
and  all  the  circumstances  which  make  this  a  plea 
sant  world,  are  the  result  of  the  grace  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus.  The  sinner  farthest  from  God,  may 
learn  his  interest  in  the  atonement,  from  the  ar 
rangements  of  his  earthly  circumstances ;  and  the 
veriest  outcast  of  wickedness  might  be  taught  a 
lesson  of  his  obligation  to  redeeming  love,  by  the 
very  forbearance  of  his  insulted  Maker,  which  that 
love  alone  has  secured.  In  this  sense,  then,  and  to 
tin's  extent  certainly,  all  men  have,  without  excep 
tion,  an  interest  in  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  as  there 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        281 

is  no  man  who  does  not  enjoy  some  good  as  the 
result  of  that  sacrifice. 

And  why  should  it  be  otherwise,  when  we  come 
to  look  at  the  atonement  as  a  spiritual  provision  ? 
Why  should  not  its  nature  be  as  extensive  with 
regard  to  man's  eternal  as  to  man's  temporal  inte 
rests  ?  If  its  primary  reference  is  to  the  former, 
why  should  its  main  be  more  restricted  than  its 
incidental  design  ?  But  we  come  again  to  "  the 
word  and  the  testimony,"  and  there  we  read  that 
the  gospel  is  "  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  which  shall 
be  to  all  people ;"  we  are  commanded  to  "  preach 
the  gospel,"  as  a  system  of  forgiving  mercy,  "  to 
every  creature."  Our  commission  recognizes  no 
distinctions  among  those  to  whom  we  are  sent ;  our 
message  is  a  message  for  the  world,  for  the  whole 
world,  for  every  individual  of  this  whole  world's 
population ;  its  language  is,  "  Ho  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come  unto  the  waters ;  let  him  that 
heareth  say,  come,  and  let  him  that  is  athirst  come, 
and  whosoever  will  let  him  come,  and  take  of  the 
water  of  life  freely." 

"  Rivers  of  love  and  mercy  here, 

In  a  rich  ocean  join  ; 
Salvation  in  abundance  flows 
Like  floods  of  milk  and  wine." 

I  confess,  my  brethren,  I  do  not  understand  the 
gospel,  if  this  is  not  one  of  its  cardinal  doctrines  ; 
if  the  indiscriminate  ofter  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of 
pardon  and  eternal  life  through  him,  is  not  made 
to  the  race,  and  as  truly  and  honestly  and  sincerely 


282        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

made  to  one  individual  as  another  of  the  race. 
This,  I  apprehend,  is  its  great  central  point  of  light 
and  power,  which  gives  meaning  and  beauty  and 
consistency  to  the  system,  without  a  clear  appre 
hension  of  which  the  whole  seems  but  a  formless 
mass.  If  the  entire  population  of  the  globe  were 
before  me,  and  there  should  be  one  in  the  mighty 
assembly  for  whom  there  was  no  provision,  I  could 
not  preach  the  gospel ;  for  how  could  I  say  in  sin 
cerity  and  honesty  to  all  and  to  each,  come  and 
take  of  the  waters  of  life  freely  ? 

Such  are  the  views  I  take  of  the  oifer  of  the  gospel ; 
and  though  for  the  ultimate  authority  of  these  views 
we  must  and  do  fall  back  upon  "the  word  and  the  tes 
timony  of  God,"  as  the  only  reason  of  faith,  yet  it  may 
give  strength  in  many  minds  to  our  position,  if  we  can 
sustain  it  by  the  authority,  likewise,  of  human 
opinions,  as  put  forth  by  those  who  have  been  con 
sidered  standards  in  the  interpretation  of  the  sacred 
oracles ;  while,  at  the  same,  it  may  serve  to  wipe 
off  the  obloquy  which  ignorance  has  thrown  upon 
them  as  men  of  narrow  and  contracted  views.  I 
do  but  quote  the  language  of  one  whose  name  I 
bear,  and  whom  I  honour  not  less  as  a  spiritual 
progenitor  than  as  a  father  after  the  flesh,  when  I 
say,  that  in  the  gospel  u  God  hath  made  a  grant  of 
his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  as  an  all-sufficient  Saviour  to 
a  lost  and  perishing  world ;  he  hath  not  merely 
revealed  a  general  knowledge  of  him,  but  has  dis 
tinctly  and  solemnly  given  him  to  sinners  as  sucli, 
iliat  tliey  may  le  saved.  The  gift  is  indiscriminately 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        283 

to  all  the  hearers  of  the  gospel,  and  to  every  one 
of  them  in  particular."* 

There  is,  however,  something  more  than  this. 
The  gospel  is  not  simply  an.  offer  of  mercy,  it  is  a 
law.  It  has  its  own  duties,  and  prescribes  its  own 
penalties.  It  does  not  simply  make  it  the  privi 
lege,  but  the  duty  of  all  men,  without  exception,  to 
embrace  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  accept  the  offer  of 
forgiveness  which  is  made  to  them.  It  makes  the 
question  of  eternal  life  or  eternal  death  to  every 
hearer  of  the  gospel  to  hinge  upon  his  acceptance 
of  proffered  mercy,  coming  to  him  on  the  ground 
and  through  the  provisions  of  the  atonement  of 
Christ.  "  This  is  the  commandment  of  God,  that 
we  should  believe  on  the  name  of  his  Son  Jesus 
Christ."  lie  is  set  before  us,  before  every  one  of 
us,  in  all  his  fulness  and  freeness,  and  it  is  at  our 
peril  if  we  reject  or  neglect  him.  With  these 
views  of  the  gospel  offer,  I  cannot  advocate  a  limit 
ed  atonement ;  I  cannot  put  a  restriction  of  the 
provision  which  I  do  not  find  in  the  offer  ;  I  can 
not  believe  that  God  would  make  to  a  sinner  in 
his  wants  and  his  woes  the  tender  of  a  relief  which 
did  not  exist,  or  which  he  did  not  wish  him  to  em 
brace;  I  cannot  believe  that  God  would  command 
his  creatures  to  embrace  a  provision  which  had 
never  been  made  for  them,  or  sanction  by  the  peril 
of  one's  everlasting  interests  a  commandment  which 
he  never  meant  should  be  obeyed,  and  which  itself 
precluded  the  possibility  of  obedience. 

*  Act  concerning  Justification.   Mason's  "Works. — Vol.  iii.  pp.  321, 
322. 


284        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

It  does  not  at  all  meet  tlie  difficulty  of  the  case 
to  say,  at  this  point,  that  we  are  required  thus  in 
discriminately  to  offer  the  gospel,  and  thus  to 
enforce  its  acceptance  upon  all,  because  we  do  not 
know  the  persons  for  whom  the  provision  is  made, 
and  whom  God  designs  shall  accept  it.  The  offer 
is  not  ours ;  we  are  but  the  channel  through  which 
it  conies.  God  himself  makes  the  offer ;  we  but 
take  up  God's  words,  and  announce  them  as  he  has 
given  them  to  us.  We  are  ambassadors  of  Christ, 
not  speaking  in  our  own  name,  but  according  to 
our  instructions,  which  bind  us  to  say  to  each  and 
every  one  of  our  hearers,  "  Come,  for  all  things  are 
now  ready."  In  this  matter  we  have  no  responsi 
bility  beyond  the  simple  utterance  of  the  message, 
"  This  is  the  will  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on  him 
whom,  he  hath  sent ;"  and  the  question  returns  upon 
us,  how  can  we  reconcile  a  universal  offer  with  a 
limited  provision  ?  How  can  we  acquit  God  of  the 
charge  of  insincerity  in  making  to  men  a  tender, 
and  enforcing  upon  them  by  the  high  sanctions  of 
eternity  the  acceptance  of  that  which  not  only  was 
never  designed  for  them  in  any  sense,  but  which, 
in  fact,  has  never  been  provided  ? 

And  yet  it  is  said,  at  this  point,  "  the  Lord 
knoweth  them  that  are  his  ;  it  is  not  a  matter  of 
doubtfulness  to  him,  who  sees  the  end  from  the 
beginning,  who  shall  and  who  shall  not  be  saved 
through  the  atonement ;  he  has  his  all-wise  pur 
poses  in  reference  to  this  subject,  and  the  final 
result  will  not  vary  one  hair's  breadth  from  his 
purpose ;"  and  while  the  truth  of  this  principle  is 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        285 

claimed  from  us,  and  cheerfully  admitted  by  us, 
the  difficulty  of  the  subject  is  supposed  to  be 
thrown  over  upon  ourselves,  as  the  question  is  re 
torted  upon  us,  how  can  we  reconcile  a  universal 
offer  with  God's  secret  purpose;  an  unrestricted 
provision  with  a  well-known  definite  and  limited 
result  ?  "Why  should  God  make  a  provision  to  an 
extent  he  knew  would  be  unnecessary,  and  be 
guilty  of  an  expenditure  beyond  what  the  well- 
known  circumstances  of  the  case  required  ?  If  he 
knew  that  in  many  cases  the  atonement  would  be 
rejected,  why  for  such  cases  provide  an  atonement? 
If  he  saw  distinctly  that  there  would  be  some,  and 
knew  who  they  were,  who  would  treat  the  blood 
of  the  covenant  as  an  unholy  thing,  where  the 
honesty  of  pressing  it  upon  their  acceptance,  and 
bringing  such  mighty  sanctions  to  bear  upon  them 
to  enforce  obedience  ? 

I  do  not  know,  my  brethren,  a  better  example 
than  the  foregoing  questions  furnish,  of  that  rule 
of  logic  which  forbids  us  to  allow  a  weak  argument 

O  O 

to  stand  isolated  and  unprotected,  and  requires  us 
to  combine  such  arguments  and  present  them  in 
one  view,  so  that  they  may  help  each  other,  and 
have  the  appearance,  at  least,  of  overwhelming 
force.  When  you  take  all  the  questions  together, 
they  seem  to  have  no  little  weight ;  but  when 
taken  singly  they  are  wholly  pointless  and  ir 
relevant. 

For  we  may  ask  in  return,  what  has  any  secret 
purpose  to  do  with  our  rule  of  judgment  and  ac 
tion  ?  "  Secret  things,"  we  are  told,  "  belong  unto 


286        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

the  Lord  our  God  ;  but  tilings  which  are  revealed, 
unto  us  and  to  our  children."  The  question  taken 
from  the  hidden  purposes  of  the  divine  mind,  can 
have  no  force  whatever,  because  it  is  an  appeal  to 
our  ignorance.  We  know,  and  can  know  nothing 
about  them.  One  thing,  however,  we  do  know. 
God  must  be  always  and  every  where  consistent 
with  himself;  and  whether  we  can  understand  it 
or  not,  it  is  certain  that  there  can  be  no  incon 
sistency  between  revealed  and  unrevealed  truths  ; 
and  if  God  has  made  an  offer  of  eternal  life  through 
the  atonement  unto  all  men,  and  commanded  all 
men  to  embrace  it,  there  cannot  be  in  any  purpose 
of  God  concerning  its  nature,  any  thing  which  will 
clash  with,  and  so  contradict  this  universal  offer. 

This  argument,  however,  from  God's  purposes, 
which  is  so  often  brought  forward  to  limit  the  na 
ture  and  availableness  of  Christ's  atonement,  like 
many  other  arguments,  destroys  itself  by  proving 
too  much.  With  equal  pertinacity,  it  might  be 
brought  forward  to  put  restrictions  upon  the  law 
of  God,  and  prove  it  not  to  be  a  law  for  the  race. 
No  fact  is  more  palpable  to  human  observation 
than  that  the  requirements  of  God  do  not  bind  all 
men.  This  is  a  sinful  world  ;  the  race  is  corrupt ; 
men  have  thrown  off  their  obligations  to  their 
Creator,  and  have  turned  rebels  against  his  right 
ful  authority.  And  God  knew  beforehand  that  it 
would  be  so.  Every  thing  has  eventuated  in 
precise  accordance  with  God's  expectations.  And 
now  we  turn  the  question,  and  ask,  is  not 
the  law  of  God  a  law  for  the  race  ?  Was  it  not 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        287 

designed  for  and  adapted  to  secure  the  obedience 
and  happiness  of  the  race  ?  Did  not  God  mean 
that  it  should  be  obeyed  ?  And  where  is  the  con 
sistency  of  his  publishing  such  a  law,  and  enforcing 
it  with  the  tremendous  sanctions  of  his  eternal 
throne,  when  he  knew  beforehand  that  it  would 
not  be  obeyed  ?  Look  at  these  questions  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  as  you  see  the  absurdity  involved  in 
them,  you  can  judge  whether  they  are  not  quite  as 
pertinent,  and  do  not  contain  an  argument  quite  as 
forcible  as  those  by  which  some  men  would  at 
tempt  to  put  restrictions  upon  the  atonement  of 
Jesus  Christ,  when  they  ask  where  is  the  wisdom, 
where  the  consistency  of  preaching  an  unlimited 
provision,  and  the  sincerity  of  enforcing  it  univer 
sally,  when  it  was  well  known  beforehand  that  it 
would  not  be  universally  accepted. 

And  now,  if  you  still  press  the  question,  why 
should  God  make  provision  for  forgiveness,  to  an 
extent  he  knew  would  be  unnecessary,  and  be 
guilty  of  an  expenditure  of  means  beyond  what 
the  well  known  circumstances  of  the  case  required  ? 
We  answer,  by  referring  you  to  the  characteristic 
of  universality,  to  which  we  have  already  ad  verted, 
as  marking  his  dispensations  in  the  natural  world, 
and  ask  you  why  his  sun  shines  and  wastes  its  beams 
upon  sightless  eye-balls,  or  upon  those  who  will  not 
open  their  eyes  to  behold  his  goodly  rays  ?  "Why 
does  he  send  his  rains  upon  the  barren  rock,  or 
waste  his  showers  upon  the  sandy  and  sterile  soil, 
in  which  the  seed  can  never  vegetate  ?  If  I  propose 
this  question,  you  tell  me  in  reply,  that  I  mistake 


288        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

altogether  the  nature  of  God's  creations,  and  the 
general  principles  of  the  system  which  he  has  es 
tablished.     You  tell  me  that  the  necessity  for  the 
sun   being  what  it  is,  does  not  depend  upon  the 
number  of  the  persons  who  are  to  be  enlightened  by 
his  rays,  but  grows  out  of  the  fact  that  it  must  be 
what  it  is  to  give  light  to  any  one — that  atmos 
pheric  laws  are  general,  and  cannot  in  their  nature 
be  so  arranged  as  to  secure  the  descent  of  rain  only 
where  it  will  render  the  earth  productive.     You 
cannot  consider  that  there  is  any  waste  of  light  or 
moisture,  because  there  are  some  who  do  not  see,  or 
because   in  some  places  the  surface  of  the  earth 
presents  the  impervious  rock  to  the  rains  of  heaven. 
We  admit  the  explanation,  and  falling  back  upon 
the  authority  we  have  already  quoted,  we  use  it  in 
reference   to   our  present  subject.     The  spiritual 
system,  as  well  as  the  natural  system,  is  governed 
by   general  laws — and   the   atonement   of  Christ 
must  be  general.     "  Its  necessity  does  not  arise  from 
the  number  of  sinners,  but  from,  the  nature  of  sin. 
The  very  nature  of  sin  requires  an  infinite  atone 
ment  in  order  to  its  honorable  remission.     Such  an 
atonement   as    Christ   offered,   was   indispensably 
necessary  to   the  pardon  of  one  act  of  sin" — and 
as  the  sun  must  be  what  it  is,  whether  it  lightens 
one  man,  or  every  man  who  cometh  into  the  world, 
so  it  makes  no  difference  as  to  the  nature  or  avail- 
ableness  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  whether  one 
sinner,  or  a  race  of  sinners,  is  to  be  saved  by  them. 
There  is  no  more  waste  or  unnecessary  expenditure 
in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other. 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATOXEMEXT.         289 

And  yet,  my  brethren,  I  feel  that  I  would  be 
doing  injustice  to  you  and  my  subject,  did  I  here 
arrest  my  remarks.  In  advocating  the  doctrine  of 
unlimited  atonement,  I  am  not  advocating  the  doc 
trine  of  universal  salvation.  There  is  a  limitation 
to  the  application  of  the  atonement.  It  reaches 
not  to  all  men.  It  reaches  only  to  those  who  em 
brace  it.  God  pardons  not  the  sin  of  unbelief,  be 
cause  that  is  a  rejection  of  his  only  method  of  par 
don.  Upon  the  ground  of  Christ's  propitiation,  he 
can  be  just,  while  he  justifies  him  who  believeth. 
He  can  save  any  man  who  accepts  of  Christ, 
he  can  save  none  who  refuse  him.  And  this  is  the 
limitation  we  are  required  to  preach  to  you,  and 
the  only  limitation  we  dare  put  upon  the  suffering 
of  an  Infinite  Saviour.  And  in  behalf  of  the  cor 
rectness  of  these  general  views,  we  summon  the 
evidence  of  every  enlightened  conscience,  and  the 
experience  of  the  lost.  Those  self-reprovings 
which  often  trouble  the  spirit  of  the  worldly- 
minded,  when  he  turns  away  from  the  offer  of  a 
free  salvation,  have  their  origin  in  the  distinct  con 
viction  that  he  is  shutting  himself  out  from  hope 
and  forgiveness.  It  would  hush  many  a  clamour  of 
an  injured  conscience,  it  would  obliterate  in  many 
a  mind  that  deep  sense  of  guilt  which  disquiets  and 
harasses  it,  could  man  but  satisfy  himself  that  for 
giveness  is  beyond  his  reach,  and  that  the  atone 
ment  of  the  Son  of  God  was  never  meant  for  him. 
But  he  cannot  do  it.  No  arts  of  sophistry,  no  spe 
cial  pleading,  can  convince  any  one  that  he  is  inno 
cent  in  "  neglecting  the  great  salvation."  Every 
19 


290        EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

man  feels  that  he  might  be  saved  if  he  would  "be, 
and  that  very  feeling  tallies  exactly  with  the  teach 
ings  of  the  Bible,  which  shew  us  unbelief,  and  no 
thing  else,  as  the  barrier  to  eternal  life.  The  same 
feeling  will  be  deeper  and  more  distinct  hereafter, 
and  go  to  form  one  of  the  most  effective  elements 
in  that  poison  cup  from  which  the  spirit  lost  will 
for  ever  drink.  The  man  who  fails  of  the  great  sal 
vation,  will  stand  speechless  before  his  Judge ;  the 
vain  apologies  of  earthly  impenitence,  will  not  bear 
looking  at  in  the  light  of  eternity.  And  when  the 
wretched  victim  of  abused  mercy  and  a  neglected 
gospel,  shall  self-convicted  go  to  his  final  allotment, 
as  he  begins  to  sink  in  his  deep  perdition,  remorse, 
undying  remorse,  will  prey  upon  his  spirit ;  and  as 
he  sees  in  the  mighty,  and  still  increasing  distance, 
the  brightening  glories  which  cluster  around  those 
who  have  washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  oh  !  this  will  be  of  all 
the  most  overwhelming  thought,  I  might  have  been 
there,  but  I  chose  death. 

My  brethren,  I  am  commanded  to  preach  to 
you,  to-day,  a  full  and  perfected  atonement.  I 
preach  Jesus  Christ  as  an  all-sufficient  Saviour  for 
each  and  every  one  of  you.  God  says  to  you, 
"  come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready."  Whosoever 
will,  may  take  of  the  waters  of  life,  freely.  I  wish 
you  to  take  home  this  subject  as  a  personal  matter 
— I  speak  to  you  in  the  name  of  my  Master,  as  in 
dividuals.  If  you  never  have  been  placed  in  such 
close  contact  with  your  Saviour  before,  I  would 
place  you,  my  hearer,  as  an  individual,  in  this  close 


EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT.        291 

contact  with  him,  this  morning  ;  I  would  testify  to 
you,  to-day,  in  behalf  of  the  gospel.  I  would  tes 
tify  to  you  that  you  are  a  sinner,  under  condemna 
tion  ;  that  God  offers  to  save  you  from  your  ruin 
by  the  mediation  of  his  Son.  I  testify  to  you,  that 
if  you  would  no  more  make  sure  to  yourself  an 
eternity  of  anguish  and  remorse,  you  must  rise  at 
once  and  accept  of  this  offer  of  forgiveness  and 
eternal  life  ;  I  testify  to  you,  to-day,  my  hearer,  by 
the  majesty  of  God,  by  a  deluged  world,  by  the 
sufferings  of  Calvary,  by  the  death-beds  of  saints, 
by  the  wailings  of  the  reprobate,  by  the  anthems 
of  the  ransomed,  that  everlasting  life  is  placed 
within  your  reach.  But  if  you  refuse  to  lay  hold 
upon  this  hope  set  before  you,  there  remaineth  no 
more  sacrifice  for  sin ;  there  can  be  no  propitiation 
for  him  who  rejects  the  propitiation,  and  you  must 
go  down  to  the  grave  and  enter  upon  an  eternal 
scene  unforgiven,  unsaved,  lost  for  ever.  You  may 
be  indifferent,  you  may  go  away  from  the  house  of 
God  careless  about  Christ  as  you  entered  it,  but 
here  is  the  point — I  wish  you  to  ponder  it — believe 
me,  there  is  meaning  and  truth  and  power  in  it. 
Though  you  should  never  hear  my  voice  again,  as 
a  messenger  of  the  truth,  I  have  fastened  myself  to 
you,  and  time  cannot  wear  away  the  links,  and  the 
earthquakes  of  the  last  day  cannot  dissolve  them. 
I  could  not  keep  back  the  testimony  I  have 
already  given  you,  in  the  words  you  have  heard, 
words  which  express  nothing  but  the  simple,  well- 
known  truths  of  the  Bible.  They  have  sprung 
forward,  and  they  cannot  be  recalled ;  you  have 


292         EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT. 

heard  them,  they  have  written  themselves  in  God's 
book,  and  oceans  cannot  expunge  them  ;  and,  when 
we  shall  meet  again,  hereafter,  and  memory,  to 
which  God  shall  have  given  such  a  resuscitating 
power  that  the  events  of  every  day  and  every 
hour  shall  come  back  in  their  order  and  freshness, 
and  shall  present  this  our  assembly,  and  recall  this 
my  testimony,  it  is  not  being  too  bold  in  imagining 
the  stirrings  and  heavings  of  the  thoughts,  when 
"  the  great  white  throne"  is  erected,  to  suppose 
that  there  will  arise  in  your  bosoms,  and  in  my 
bosom,  the  feeling  that  the  ministry  so  imperfectly 
discharged,  is  nevertheless  fulfilling  itself  with  ter 
rible  accuracy. 

My  brethren,  there  are  great  ends  to  be  answer 
ed  by  the  infinite  atonement  of  the  Son  of  God, 
and  by  this  testimony  to  its  fulness  and  all- 
sufficiency,  which  I  give  you  to-day — ends  to  be 
answered  in  the  experience  of  those  who  reject  it 
as  well  as  in  the  experience  of  those  who  receive  it. 
I  would  not  attempt  to  be  wise  above  what  is 
written.  But  yet  I  know  that  the  testimony  which 
I  give  to  you,  in  behalf  of  Christ,  though  it  may 
seem  not  to  prevail  with  you,  is  not  fruitless. 
There  is  no  more  waste  in  preaching,  than  there 
has  been  in  making  an  atonement  which  is  not  re 
ceived.  The  precious  seed  which,  Sabbath  after 
Sabbath,  is  thrown  out  upon  the  moral  desert, 
which  resists  and  sets  at  naught  all  the  diligence 
of  the  husbandman,  is  not  lost.  It  will  bring  forth 
fruit — the  broad  field  upon  which  at  last  shall 
be  gathered  the  sublime,  and  awful,  and  mysterious, 


EXTENT    OF   THE   ATONEMENT.  293 

and  stirring  magnificence  of  the  end,  is  white  unto 
the  harvest.  Every  grain  is  there  giving  produce 
—every  particle  of  gospel  truth  springs  up  and 
waves  on  that  awful  field.  I  preach  for  a  testi 
mony — oh !  it  is  in  feebleness  I  speak.  I  cannot 
throw  might  into  my  language.  I  cannot  breathe 
words  which  shall  take  a  lasting  form  and  sub 
stance,  and  fall  upon  my  worldly-minded  hearers 
— but  yet  they  die  not.  I  seem  already  to  hear 
their  reverberation  from  a  thousand  echoes,  louder 
and  louder,  and  deeper  and  deeper,  responding  to 
the  anthems  of  the  saved,  or  the  bitter  and  deep- 
toned  knell  which  shall  be  rung  over  lost  spirits. 
God  prepare  us,  my  brethren,  for  the  end. 


MAN  UNWILLING  TO  BE  SAVED. 


"  Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely." — REVELA 
TION  xxii.  17. 

THE  statement  which  thus  closes  the  "book  of 
God's  inspiration,  is  no  more  remarkable  than  in 
teresting.  "  The  Spirit  and  the  bride  say,  come. 
And  let  him  that  heareth  say,  come.  And  let  him 

*/  / 

that  is  athirst,  come.  And  whosoever  will,  let  him 
take  the  water  of  life  freely."  No  salvation  but 
one  absolutely  free,  could  justify  such  language  ; 
none  but  an  all-sufficient  atonement  for  sin  could 
warrant  an  offer  so  unlimited.  It  seems  to  be  the 
spirit  of  the  testimony  of  Jesus,  concentrated  in  a 
last  appeal  to  those  for  whom  he  died.  As  we 
dare  not  add  to,  or  detract  from  either  the  fulness 
or  freeness  of  the  offer,  but  at  the  peril  of  the 
heaviest  plagues  which  are  written  in  the  book  of 
God,  we  can  say  nothing  less  of  the  gospel,  than 
that  it  is  a  message  for  the  lost,  for  all  the  lost ;  for 
men  of  all  climes,  all  classes,  all  conditions  ;  men 
of  every  shade  and  variety  of  character,  men  in  all 
the  supposable  circumstances  in  which  any  of  the 
race  can  be  found.  Thus  it  sets  before  each  and 


MAJST   UNWILLING   TO   BE   SAVED.  295 

all,  an  open  cloor  of  life,  which  no  man  can  shut. 
All  the  blessings  purchased  through  a  Redeemer's 
death,  symbolized  by  "  the  water  of  life,"  are  brought 
within  their  reach.  There  is  light  for  those  who 
are  in  darkness,  pardon  for  those  who  are  guilty, 
purity  for  the  vile,  strength  for'  the  weak,  joy  for 
the  sorrowing,  hope  for  the  desponding,  life  for  the 
dead.  "Whosoever  will,"  and  here  is  the  only 
limitation  which  the  Bible  puts  upon  either  the 
efficacy  of  the  atonement,  or  the  offer  which  it  pub 
lishes,  "  Whosoever  will  may  take  of  the  water  of 
life  freely."  Beyond  all  question,  then,  the  posi- , 
tion  in  which  the  gospel  places  the  man  to  whom 
it  conies,  is  one  where  every  external  obstacle  to 
his  salvation  is  removed,  and  where,  if  he  will,  he 
may  have  eternal  life.  Looking  at  this  truth  from 
one  direction,  it  is  the  most  precious  and  delightful 
truth  which  can  be  commended  to  the  human 
mind;  looking  at  it  from  another  direction  it  is 
the  most  solemn  truth  which  can  engage  human 
thought.  That  there  is  forgiveness  for  the  guilty, 
and  hope  for  the  lost,,— who  does  not  hail  the  an 
nouncement,  that  has  ever  felt  himself  to  be  a  sin 
ner,  and  has  apprehended  the  retributions  of  eter 
nity  ?  and  what  voice  can  be  more  cheering  to  the 
man  who  is  no  more  aware  of  his  indebtedness  than 
of  his  inability  to  meet  it,  than  one  which  assures 
him  that  salvation  is  "  without  money  and  without 
price  ?" 

But  then,  is  it  not  so,  in  view  of  the  fulness  and 
freeness  of  God's  provisions  and  arrangements,  that 
the  responsibility  of  the  result  rests  with  man  him- 


296  MAN    UNWILLING    TO    BE   SAVED. 

self?  Is  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  thus  we 
look  at  it,  any  more  the  measure  of  the  rich  grace 
of  God,  than  it  is  of  our  obligation?  Had  the 
provision  been  less  full,  or  its  offer  been  less  free 
and  untrammelled,  our  responsibility  had  been  pro- 
portionably  less.  Every  restriction  you  put  upon 
the  fulness  of  the  gospel  is  a  limitation  put  upon 
human  duty ;  and  in  proportion  as  you  impair  its 
freeness,  you  take  off  from  the  weight  it  throws 
upon  the  human  conscience.  If  you  insist  upon  a 
full  and  free  salvation,  you  must  take  it  in  all  its 
necessary  connections  and  results- — and  there  is  no 
truth  which  its  fulness  and  freeness  more  conclu 
sively  demonstrates  than  this,  that  every  man  to 
whom  the  message  of  Christ  comes,  is  responsible 
for  his  failure  to  secure  eternal  life.  To  all  his 
reasonings  to  the  contrary,  to  all  his  suggestions  of 
difficulty  in  the  way  of  pardon  and  acceptance  with 
God,  we  oppose  the  simple  language  of  the  text, 
which,  if  it  means  any  thing,  teaches  us  beyond  all 
controversy,  that  since  Christ  has  died  and  the  offer 
of  salvation  in  his  name  has  gone  forth  to  the 
world,  nothing  can  shut  a  man  out  from  eternal  life, 
but  an  unwillingness  to  embrace  the  offer. 

It  is  this  simple  truth  (as  a  fitting  and  legitimate 
inference  from  previous  discourses)  that  we  wish 
to  commend  to  the  minds  of  our  hearers,  in  the 
hope  (God  grant  that  it  may  not  be  a  vain  one)  of 
leading  them  to  a  clear  perception  and  a  just 
appreciation  of  their  circumstances  as  subjects  of 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

The  point  then  which  we  design  to   illustrate 


MAN   UNWILLING   TO    BE    SAVED.  297 

this  morning  seems  to  grow  necessarily  out  of  a 
clear  and  consistent  view  of  the  Saviour's  atonement. 
The  glory  of  the  gospel  as  a  revelation  of  that 
atonement  is  found  in  the  fact  that  it  represents 
every  external  obstacle  over  which  man  had  no 
control  removed  out  of  the  way  of  eternal  life. 
As  a  sinner,  man  has  put  himself  in  a  position  of 
utter  helplessness  ;  do  what  he  may,  he  never  can 
amend  the  past  so  as  to  correct  his  errors,  or  re 
cover  what  he  has  forfeited  by  transgression.     If 
eternal  life  is  brought  within  his  reach,  it  must  be 
by  virtue  of  some  provision  which  shall  relieve  him 
from  this  difficulty,  and  place  him  in  circumstances 
where  the  responsibility  of  past  transgression  may 
be  removed  from  his  conscience.     To  meet  this 
exigency  is  the  design  of  the  sacrificial  offering 
of  Jesus  Christ,  which  demonstrates  its  value  in 
the  assurance  which  it  gives,  that  God  can  be  just 
and  yet  forgive.    Now  it  must  be  perfectly  obvious 
to  the  most  superficial  thinker,  that  if  any  outward 
obstacle  of  this  kind  remained,  the  atonement  of 
the  Son  of  God  is  a  failure,  because  it  does  not 
meet  all  the  difficulties  it  was  designed  to  remove. 
If  God  could  not  be  just  and  forgive  all  a  man's 
sins,  it  is,  so  far  as  the  result  is  concerned,  the  same 
as  though  he  could  not  forgive  any  of  his  sins ;  upon 
such  a  supposition  the  offer  of  eternal  life  could 
not  be  laid  before  any  man.     No  less  manifest  is  it 
that  if  there  is  a  single  human  being,  all  of  whose 
outward  difficulties  the  atonement  does  not  meet, 
there  is  one  to  whom  the  offer  of  eternal  life  can 
not  honestly  be  made ;  and  upon  either  supposition 


298  MAN   UNWILLING   TO   BE   SAVED. 

the  language,  "  whosoever  will  may  take  of  the 
waters  of  life  freely,"  involves  a  palpable  contra 
diction  of  the  truth.  The  free  and  unlimited  offer 
of  the  gospel,  therefore,  necessarily  involves  a  pro 
vision  for  all  human  wants,  a  removal  of  all  exter 
nal  obstacles,  a  provision  of  unlimited  value  and 
unrestricted  sufficiency,  a  provision  within  the 
reach  of  every  one  to  whom  it  is  presented,  and 
who  is  charged  with  its  acceptance  upon  the  peril 
of  eternal  death.  For  ourselves  we  cannot  see 
how  you  can  separate  such  an  offer  from  man's  re 
sponsibility  as  to  the  result.  The  two  doctrines  must 
stand  or  fall  together.  If  it  is  true,  that  whosoever 
will  may  take  of  the  waters  of  life  freely,  it  must 
be  true  that  if  man  partakes  not,  it  is  because  he 
will  not. 

Of  the  position  which  we  here  assume,  every 
man  carries  within  him  the  most  clear  and  con 
vincing  evidence.  No  testimony,  upon  any  point, 
is  more  conclusive  than  that  which  is  furnished  by 
human  consciousness.  If  I  do  not  know  that  I 
exist,  I  do  not  know  any  thing ;  and  yet  conscious 
ness  is  the  grand  evidence  of  my  existence.  If  I 
do  not  know  that  I  am  free  in  my  actions,  I  do  not 
know  any  thing,  for  consciousness  is  the  evidence  of 
my  freedom.  It  is  the  glory  of  my  nature,  as  an 
intelligent  and  moral  being,  that  I  choose  my  own 
course,  and  fix  my  own  position ;  I  may  not  be 
able  to  answer  all  the  metaphysical  questions  you 
may  propound  to  me  upon  this  subject,  nor  to  meet 
and  overthrow  all  the  subtle  arguments  which 
would  convert  me  into  a  machine,  or  a  victim  of 


MAN   UNWILLING   TO   BE   SAVED.  299 

uncontrollable  fate,  and  perhaps  I  might  suggest 
some  puzzling  inquiries  as  to  the  reality  of  your 
existence;  but  you  consider  all  my  inquiries  as  I  do 
all  your  subtleties,  wholly  forceless,  because  they 
are  every  one  of  them  met  and  refuted  by  the  tes 
timony  of  consciousness.     And   does  human  con 
sciousness,  my  brethren,  bear  no  testimony  as  to 
the  position  which  every  man  occupies  in  reference 
to  the  gospel?     Go   catechize  the  man   who   has 
found   peace   at  the  foot  of  the    cross,  and   who 
rejoices  in  the  hope  which  that  cross  has  brought 
nigh  unto  him,  and  he  will  testify  that  in  no  act 
which  he  ever  performed  was  he  more  conscious  of 
his  perfect  freedom,  than  when  he  embraced  the 
offer  of  eternal  life,  made  to  him  by  Jesus  Christ. 
The   impenitent   and  unbelieving   hearer   of    the 
gospel  gives  a  no  less  forceful  testimony — the  con 
sciousness  of  his  own  spirit  is  the  best  answer  to  all 
the  arguments  by  which  he  would  throw  off  from 
himself  the  responsibility  of  his  unbelief.     Talk  as 
he  may  of  his  peculiar  circumstances,  as  interfering 
with  his  submission  to  Jesus  Christ,  when  he  conies 
closely  to   scrutinize  them,  he  finds,  for  the  most 
part,   that    they   are    circumstances   of   his   own 
arrangement,  and  even   when  they  are  not,  they 
are  no  farther  hindrances  in  the  way  of  life,  than 
as  his  own  heart  has  invested  them  with  prevent 
ive   power.     Talk   as   he   may    of    the   obscurity 
which  rests  upon  the  pages  of  the  gospel,  prevent 
ing   a  clear  perception  of  the  principles  they  un 
fold,  he  perceives  them  with  sufficient  distinctness 
to  know  that  they  involve  truths  which  are  dis 


300  MAN   UNWILLING   TO   BE   SAVED. 

tasteful  to  his  mind,  and  enforce  claims  to  which 
he  is  unwilling  to  submit.  The  difficulties  of  re 
ligion  are  not  found  in  its  obscurities — the  insupe 
rable  obstacles  to  obedience  are  not  found  in  any 
outward  circumstances — a  child  has  understood  the 
gospel  so  as  to  embrace  it,  and  men  have  walked 
with  God,  in  the  midst  of  abounding  sensuality  and 
crime.  But  those  difficulties  are  found  in  the 
spiritualities  of  the  gospel,  in  the  holiness  of  its 
principles,  and  the  self-denying  nature  of  its  duties  ; 
the  child  of  sense  will  not  govern  himself  by 
faith,  the  being  of  earthliness  will  not  submit  to 
spiritual  influences,  and  the  slave  of  appetite  will 
not  put  a  curb  upon  his  passions.  Did  men  but 
love  the  truth  as  they  love  error,  love  holiness  as 
they  love  sin,  regard  the  glory  of  God  as  they  do 
their  selfish  gratifications,  the  obstacles  to  religion 
would  vanish,  and  the  path  of  life  would  be  as 
plain  and  as  easy  to  travel  as  is  now  the  pa  th  into 
which  their  desires  lead  them. 

There  are  moments  in  every  man's  history,  when 
the  truth  of  these  remarks  and  of  the  position  they 
are  designed  to  illustrate,  comes  home  to  him  with 
irresistible  power ;  they  are  moments  when  con 
science  breaks  loose  from  the  trammels  which  sin 
had  thrown  around  it,  and  emerges  from  the  dark 
ness  in  which  sin  had  enwrapped  it,  and  acts  in  the 
light  of  the  gospel ;  they  are  moments  of  self- 
reflection,  sometimes  deep  and  overwhelming,  in 
view  of  a  neglect  of  the  great  salvation.  Not  one 
who  hears  me,  and  is  not  in  reality  a  Christian  dis 
ciple,  but  feels,  and  often  deeply,  that  in  reference 


MAN   UNWILLING   TO    BE   SAVED.  301 

to  the  claims  of  the  gospel,  lie  ought  to  be  vastly 
different  from  what  he  is.  And  yet,  my  brethren, 
we  never  reflect  upon  ourselves,  in  view  of  events 
which  are  wholly  beyond  our  control.  We  may 
mourn  over  their  occurrence,  and  bitterly  lament 
their  influence,  as  it  defeats  our  plans  and  deso 
lates  our  joys,  but  they  inflict  no  wound  like  that 
of  conscious  guilt.  The  self-condemnation  of  the 
unbeliever,  is  the  testimony  which  his  own  spirit 
yields  to  the  truth,  that  he  might  be  different  from 
what  he  is  ;  that  the  responsibility  of  his  present 
position,  and  of  all  its  apprehended  necessary  con 
sequences,  rests  entirely  upon  himself;  and  so  in 
the  workings  of  his  own  mind  he  is  illustrating 
at  one  and  the  same  time  the  fulness  and 
freeness  of  the  provisions  of  the  gospel,  and 
the  doctrine  which  our  Saviour  advanced  as 
the  exponent  of  man's  unblessed  condition,  when 
he  said,  "  Ye  will  not  come  unto  me  that  ye  might 
have  life.  And  in  view  of  this  testimony  of  con 
sciousness,  harmonizing  as  it  does  so  perfectly  with 
the  plain  statements  of  the  word  of  God,  will  any 
man  who  is  out  of  Christ  presume  to  throw  off  from 
himself  the  responsibility  of  his  hopeless  condition  ? 
Will  he  undertake  to  say  that  the  question  of  his 
eventual  safety  is  one  the  decision  of  which  is  so 
wholly  independent  of  himself,  that  feel  and  choose 
as  he  may,  the  final  result  can  in  no  way  be  affected 
by  the  operations  of  his  own  mind,  and  the  state  of 
his  own  heart  ?  Is  there  one  of  my  unconverted 
hearers  who  can  look  at  the  plain  statements  of  the 
word  of  God,  and  at  his  own  experience,  so  fully 


302  MAN    UNWILLING    TO    BE   SAVED. 

accordant  as  it  is  with  all  the  principles  which 
those  statements  involve,  and  then  define  his 
circumstances  as  those  of  one  against  whom  the 
straight  gate  is  closed  by  a  power  over  which  he 
has  no  control,  and  in  whose  pathway  to  eternal 
life  there  are  insuperable  obstacles,  whose  existence 
and  magnitude  are  wholly  independent  of  his  own 
feelings.  In  taking  such  a  position,  man  must 
array  himself  not  only  against  God,  whose  truth 
he  disputes,  but  against  his  own  spirit — whose 
evidence  he  rejects.  He  has  here  nothing  upon 
which  he  can  fall  back  for  support  in  this  unequal 
and  painful  controversy.  So  far  from  it,  that 
when  God  throws  upon  him  the  fearful  responsi 
bility  of  the  issue  of  his  course,  and  he  examines 
the  testimony  of  his  own  consciousness  upon  the 
subject,  it  tells  him  that  in  a  moral  point  of  view 
he  is  precisely  what  he  chooses  to  be ;  that  the  path 
upon  which  he  is  travelling,  leading  him,  as  he 
sees  it  does,  away  from  the  forgiveness,  and  peace, 
and  hope  of  the  gospel,  is  the  one  which,  upon  the 
whole,  is  preferable  to  his  mind ;  and  thus,  out  of 
deference  to  the  desires  of  his  own  heart,  which 
cling  to  the  vanities,  and  pleasures,  and  honours  of 
this  perishable  world, — in  the  face  of  motives, 
infinite  as  God  can  make  them,  forceful  as  the  re 
tributions  of  a  coming  scene,  bright  as  the  fascina- 

O  7  O 

tions,  and  dark  as  the  forbidding  gloom  of  an 
eternal  world,  he  turns  away  from  an  offered  sal 
vation,  and  with  his  own  hand,  closes  against  him 
self  the  gate  of  heaven,  and  puts  the  seal  upon  his 
everlasting  destiny.  For  this  controversy  between 


MA1ST    UNWILLING    TO    BE    SAVED.  30,3 

God  and  man,  God  has  the  human  spirit  on  his  own 
side,  and  no  one  can  wring  from  it  a  testimony  in 
contradiction  of  the  statement  of  the  Saviour,  "  Ye 
will  not  come  unto  me,  that  ye  might  have  life." 

The  doctrine  of  man's  responsibility  for  his  own 
salvation  which  we  have  thus  deduced  from  the 
free  offer  of  the  gospel,  and  which  we  have  seen  to 
be  so  fully  sustained  by  the  testimony  of  human  con 
sciousness,  so  far  as  human  consciousness  can  give 
its  testimony  upon  such  a  point,  I  may  here  add  is 
not  only  uncontradicted  by,  but  is  in  perfect  keep 
ing  with  the  entire  strain  of  the  inspired  record. 
The  whole  Bible  is  throughout  perfectly  consistent 
with  itself.   There  is  a  beautiful  harmony  subsisting 
between  its  different  truths,  which,  like  the  different 
parts  of  an  edifice,  all  in  keeping  with  each  other, 
indicate  one   design  and    one  designer.     Any  al 
leged  discrepancy  between  one  and  another  state 
ment  of  the  sacred  oracles  is  apparent  only,  result 
ing  from  the  medium  through  which  we  look  at 
them ;  correct  the  medium   and   the  discrepancy 
vanishes.     I  advert  to  this  fact,  because  of  the  con 
trariety  which  has  been  supposed  to  exist  between 
the  position  I  have  assumed  and  some  of  the  ac 
knowledged  doctrines  of  the  inspired  volume.     It 
is  not  without  an  air  of  apparent  triumph  that  we 
are  sometimes  called  upon  to  reconcile  our  state 
ment  of  human  responsibility  with  such  doctrines, 
for  example,  as  that  of  human  dependence,  which 
refers  the  conversion  of  the  soul  to  the  grace  of 
God  as  its  only  efficient,  adequate  cause,  and  the 
sovereign  agency  of  the  Almighty,  which  we  are 


304  MAN   UNWILLING   TO   BE   SAVED. 

told  respects  results  in  the  spiritual  as  well  as  the 
natural  world,  and  without  which  no  event  of  any 
kind,  much  less  such  an  event  as  that  of  the  salva 
tion  of  the  soul,  can  possibly  occur.  An  appeal 
like  this  demands  the  attention  of  the  expositor  of 
truth,  not  more  with  the  view  of  relieving  an 
honest  mind  of  its  difficulty,  than  of  removing  the 
obstacle  which  false  apprehensions  interpose  be 
tween  the  conscience  and  the  full  force  of  revealed 
truth. 

We  admit  then  the  scriptural  doctrine  of  human 
dependence.  We  admit  that  men  are  "  born  not 
of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  will 
of  man,  but  of  God."  The  Spirit  of  grace  and 
truth  must  breathe  upon  the  dry  bones,  ere  they 
live.  It  is  the  mighty  power  of  God,  by  which  a 
man  is  brought  from  the  error  of  his  ways,  to  em 
brace  an  offered  salvation.  We  admit,  moreover, 
that  there  is  something,  at  first  sight,  exceed 
ingly  plausible  in  the  assertion,  that  an  effect 
which  demands  superhuman  agency  for  its  produc 
tion  'must  be  beyond  the  reach  of  human  effort, 
however  disposed  the  heart  may  be  towards  it. 
The  special  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  the  standing 
argument  of  a  deceitful  heart  against  the  doctrine 
which  I  now  inculcate.  It  is  sufficient,  however,  to 
strip  this  objection  of  all  its  speciousness,  to  direct 
our  attention,  for  a  moment,  to  the  reasons  out  of 
which  grows  the  necessity  for  this  wondrous  agency. 
If  any  man  supposes — I  know  the  Bible  does  not 
teach  him — that  the  special  influence  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  is  designed  to  remodel  him  as  a  rational 


MAN   UNWILLING   TO    BE    SAVED.  305 

being.  It  does  not  involve,  by  even  the  remotest 
implication,  the  idea  that  either  the  elements  or 
laws  of  our  mental  organization  must  undergo  a 
change,  in  order  that  we  may  become  new  creatures 
in  Christ  Jesus.  We  repudiate  such  fatalism  as  un 
worthy  of  a  thinking  man,  and  hurl  back  upon  its 
authors,  as  dishonouring  to  God,  the  imputation 
which  it  casts  upon  his  revealed  truth.  The  spi 
ritual  change  upon  which  the  Bible  insists,  is  a 
change  of  feelings  and  passions,  hopes  and  joys, 
rules  and  ends  of  action.  The  Spirit  of  the  living 
God,  in  translating  a  man  from  the  kingdom  of 
darkness  into  that  of  his  dear  Son,  does  not  give 
him  a  heart,  but  a  new  disposition  of  heart — does 
not  give  a  man  affections,  but  new  objects  of  affec 
tions.  He  is  "  alienated  from  the  life  of  God, 
through  the  ignorance  that  is  in  him,  because  of  the 

O  O  / 

blindness  of  his  heart."  The  difficulty  of  his  case 
is,  not  that  he  cannot  embrace  Christ,  if  he  will, 
but  that  he  will  not  embrace  him.  The  Spirit  acts 
upon  the  heart,  and  man  becomes  "  willing  in  the 
day  of  God's  power" — and  the  difference  between 
what  he  is  and  what  he  was,  the  secret  of 
his  wondrous  change  lies  in  this,  that  he  loves 
what  formerly  he  hated,  and  hates  what  formerly 
he  loved. 

Do  not  suppose  for  a  moment,  my  brethren,  that 
I  have  lost  sight  of  human  depravity,  or  that  I  am 
disposed  to  fritter  it  away,  or  make  any  less  of  it 
than  does  the  word  of  God.  Human  depravity, 
who  doubts  it  ?  Who  that  calmly  studies  human 
nature,  or  analyses  his  own  experience,  will  ques- 
20 


306  MAN  UNWILLING  TO  BE  SAVED. 

tion  either  its  reality  or  extent  ?  I  do  not  need  an 
argument  to  prove  it.  I  will  not  insult  the  under 
standing  of  my  hearers,  by  constructing  an  argu 
ment  to  demonstrate  it  to  their  minds.  We  do  not 
need  it,  when  we  can  see  for  ourselves,  how  men  treat 
the  things  of  God.  We  do  not  need  it,  when  we  can 
see  men  treading  day  by  day  upon  the  very  verge 
of  an  eternal  world,  and  though  they  behold  one  and 
another  dropping  hourly  into  its  retributions,  living 
as  secure  and  careless  about  futurity,  as  though 
God  has  stamped  immortality  upon  their  present 
mode  of  existence.  We  do  not  need  the  argument 
while  this  sanctuary  stands  ;  and  the  messages  of 
mercy  tell  no  more  of  the  kindness  of  heaven,  than 
does  their  fruitlessness  tell  of  man's  deafness  to  the 
voice  which  utters  them,  and  his  insensibility  to 
the  thrilling  motives  which  enforce  them.  And 
yet  I  find  I  have  given  you  the  argument !  I  need 
not — no  man  needs  any  more  conclusive  proof  of  the 
totality  of  human  sinfulness,  than  the  position  of 
this  discourse  has  furnished.  But  then  let  us  re 
member  that  it  is  the  wilfulness  of  man's  depravity 
which  throws  around  him  so  dark  a  shade,  and 
brings  down  upon  him  so  heavy  a  curse.  Man's 
wickedness  is  not  mechanical  action ;  it  is  insepara 
ble  from  the  feelings,  and  desires,  and  choices  of 
his  heart.  It  consists  essentially  not  in  the  absence 
of  a  mind  to  think  of  God,  a  conscience  to  approve 
of  his  requirements,  affections  to  give  to  his  Maker, 
but  in  such  a  cherished  blindness  to  spiritual  reali 
ties,  such  a  fixed  aversion  of  heart  from  all  that  is 
pure  and  excellent  in  the  character  and  govern- 


MAN    UNWILLING    TO    BE   SAVED.  30T 

ment  of  God,  that  without  the  influence  of  hea 
venly  grace  he  never  will  love  holy  things,  nor 
give  his  heart  to  his  Saviour. 

The  doctrines  of  the  gospel  vary  their  aspect  ac 
cording  as  they  are  looked  at  in  or  out  of  their 
scriptural  connexions.  Take  them  as  isolated  doc 
trines,  totally  separated  from  their  relations  to 
other  truths  which  serve  to  explain  them,  and  in 
view  of  them,  man,  as  a  sinner,  may  seem  to  be  a 
subject  deserving  of  pity  rather  than  of  blame. 
But  look  at  them  in  the  light  which  they  mutually 
shed  upon  each  other,  and  they  serve  to  place  men 
precisely  where  we  have  put  them,  with  the  free 
and  untrammelled  offer  of  the  gospel  set  before 
them  for  their  acceptance,  and  with  the  words  of 
Jesus  Christ  written  over  them,  as  the  only  true  ex 
ponent  of  their  unsaved  and  unsanctified  condition, 
"  Ye  will  not  come  unto  me  that  ye  might  have 
life." 

If  we  have  disposed  of  this  difficulty,  we  turn 
your  attention  to  another,  and  apparently  a  more 
formidable  one,  growing  out  of  the  Sovereignty  of 
God,  and  his  inscrutable  purposes  concerning  man. 
And  here,  my  brethren,  allow  me  to  say,  if  God  is 
a  sovereign,  he  is  not  an  arbitrary  despot ;  if  he 
has  his  purposes  in  respect  to  all  things,  and  un 
questionably  he  has,  they  are  formed  in  view  of 
all-sufficient  reasons  every  way  worthy  of  himself, 
as  a  God  infinite  in  his  wisdom  and  his  love.  I  do 
not  undertake  to  explain  them ;  far  from  me  be 
the  unhallowed  temerity  which  shall  attempt  to 
unravel  the  mystery  which  enshrouds  the  un- 


308  MAN    UN  WILLING    TO    BE    SAVED. 

searchable  God.  What  is  beyond  my  power  of 
comprehension,  I  receive  upon  the  testimony  of 
Him  who  cannot  lie,  and  refer  its  solution  to  that 
august  day,  when  the  great  white  throne  shall  be 
set,  and  God  shall  make  plain  all  that  was  intri 
cate,  and  shed  light  upon  all  that  was  dark  in  his 
administration  of  the  affairs  of  this  lost  and  ruined 
world. 

But,  I  would  ask  a  man  who  talks  of  God's 
secret  will,  and  God's  electing  purposes,  what  he 
can  find  in  them  by  means  of  which  he  can  throw 
off  from  his  conscience  his  responsibility  in  refer 
ence  to  the  great  salvation  which  has  been  offered 
to  him  ?  True,  he  may  answer  me,  (and  this  is  the 
interpretation  which  thousands  put  upon  the  doc 
trine  of  election,)  "That  God,  according  to  his 
eternal  purpose,  saves  some  and  casts  off  others, 
whether  they  reject  or  embrace  Christ ;  and  if  I  am 
to  be  saved,  I  shall  be  saved,  do  what  I  may,  and 
if  I  am  to  be  lost,  I  shall  be  lost,  do  what  I  can." 
My  hearer,  if  you  ever  thus  have  reasoned,  let  me 
ask  you  if  you  are  honest  with  yourself,  or  honest 
with  the  word  of  God,  the  authority  of  which  yon 
pretend  to  quote  ?  I  take  your  argument  and  set 
it  before  you  in  another  form.  "  If  I  am  to  live 
to-morrow,  I  shall  live,  though  I  should  die ;  and 
if  I  am  to  die  to-morrow,  I  shall  die,  though  I 
should  live."  God's  purpose  has  settled  it.  Will 
you  as  a  thinking  man,  claim  the  paternity  of  such 
a  senseless  and  contradictory  argument  ?  If  not, 
never  say  again,  never  even  let  your  heart  whisper 
to  your  conscience,  "  If  I  am  to  be  saved.  I  shall  be 


MAN   UNWILLING   TO   BE   SAVED.  309 

saved,  do  what  I  may  ;  and  if  I  am  to  be  lost,  I 
shall  be  lost,  do  what  I  can."  The  plea  has  no 
meaning ;  it  is  absurd ;  it  contradicts  itself. 

God  is  indeed  a  Sovereign  God.  We  do  not 
question  it ;  but  then  sovereignty,  as  I  understand 
it,  has  to  do  with  the  dispensation  of  blessings,  not 
at  all  with  the  arbitrary  infliction  of  punishment* 
I  can  easily  understand  how  God  can  shed  down 
his  mercies  upon  a  human  being,  for  reasons  which 
are  wholly  irrespective  of  the  character,  and  inde 
pendent  of  the  doings  of  their  subject.  But  I  can 
not  understand  how  he  can  send  down  his  curse 
upon  any  other  ground  than  the  guilt  of  its  subject. 
He  may  bless  a  man  who  does  not  deserve  his 
blessing ;  but  he  cannot  punish  a  man  who  does  not 
deserve  punishment.  The  sovereign  infliction  of 
evil  would  be  an  anomaly  under  any  government, 
a  contradiction  of  all  the  principles  of  equity,  and 
all  the  laws  of  righteousness,  and  never  can  blot 
the  administration  of  him  whose  throne  rests  upon 
justice  and  judgment.  The  sovereign  grace  of 
God  !  What  being  in  the  universe  does  it  injure, 
or  what  obstacles  can  it  interpose  between  any 
man  and  eternal  life?  It  surely  injures  not  the 
being  whom  it  saves,  by  making  him  willing  in  the 
day  of  its  power ;  not  surely  the  being  whom  it 
does  not  constrain,  but  whom  it  permits  to  rest  in 
his  own  chosen  objects,  and  walk  in  his  own 
chosen  path.  If  there  were  two  worlds  of  sinful 
beings, — our  own  and  another — and  if  to  us  God 
made  an  offer  of  eternal  life,  full  and  free,  the 
responsibility  of  the  result  would  rest  entirely  with 


310  MAN    UNWILLING    TO    BE   SAVED. 

ourselves,  and  the  character  of  his  dispensations 
toward  that  other  world,  whatever  it  might  be, 
could  not  in  any  degree  or  in  any  way  affect  our 
position. 

To  make  our  point  still  plainer,  we  will  suppose 
for  a  moment,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Sove 
reignty  had  never  been  revealed  in  the  Bible ;  that 
not  one  word  had  ever  been  written  upon  its  pages 
concerning  the  purposes  of  God,  and  then,  as  we 
read,  "  Whosoever  will  may  come  and  take  of  the 
water  of  life  freely,"  nobody  would  doubt  man's 
perfect  liberty  of  choice,  nor  hesitate  a  moment  as 
to  the  question  where  rested  the  responsibility,  if 
any  being  who  heard  the  offer  should  be  lost — 
and  if  upon  the  supposition,  that  man  knew  nothing 
of  any  of  God's  purposes,  he  would  be  under  God 
perfectly  free,  the  author  of  his  own  character  and 
the  framer  of  his  own  destiny,  I  see  not  how  the 
revelation  of  the  doctrine  can  alter  a  man's  posi 
tion  in  the  least,  when  in  case  of  a  failure  of  the 
great  salvation,  it  leaves  a  man  precisely  where  and 
what  it  found  him. 

But,  my  brethren,  let  me  remind  you  that  the 
purposes  of  God,  as  he  has  revealed  them,  are  uni 
versal.  They  extend  as  truly  to  the  sparrow, 
which  falleth  to  the  ground,  as  to  the  seraph  who 
burns  before  his  throne.  They  embrace  the  hairs 
of  your  head,  which  are  all  numbered,  as  well  as 
the  greatest  events  of  your  life,  all  of  which  are  con 
trolled  by  an  overruling  Providence.  If  they 
respect  man's  future  allotments,  they  must  respect 
with  equal  certainty  man's  present  movements.  I 


MAN    UNWILLING    TO    BE    SAVED.  311 

have,  however,  yet  to  learn  that  any  one  feels  their 
constraining  power  in  any  of  his  earthly  plannings 
and  actions.  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  any  man 
considers  himself  a  mere  passive  instrument  in  the 
doings  of  his  daily  life,  or  looks  upon  the  results  of 
his  undertakings  as  in  no  way  connected  with  his 
own  sagacity,  his  own  energy,  and  his  own  perse 
verance.  To  convince  me  of  a  sinner's  honesty, 
when  he  refers  the  spiritual  results  of  his  course  to 
the  purposes  of  God,  I  must  find  him  in  perfect 
carelessness,  giving  the  same  reference  to  the  ac 
tions  of  his  daily  life,  to  the  plans  and  movements 
of  the  morrow.  I  must  see  him  refusing  the  nour 
ishment  which  nature  demands  for  its  sustenance, 
or  quaffing  the  poison  cup  which  contains  the  ele 
ments  of  death,  upon  the  plea  that  the  question  of  his 
life  or  death  is  regulated  and  to  be  determined  by 
the  purposes  of  God,  irrespective  wholly  of  his  own 
doings.  When  I  see  this,  then,  but  not  before, 
will  I  believe  a  man  sincere  when  he  says,  "  If  I 
am  to  be  saved,  I  shall  be  saved,  do  what  I  may ; 
and  if  I  am  to  be  lost,  I  shall  be  lost,  do  what  I 
can."  Who  can  doubt,  my  brethren,  that  men 
take  refuge  in  God's  election,  only  that  they  may 
garnish  and  persevere  in  their  own  election — and 
every  man  ought  to  know  better,  and  does  know 
better  than  to  say,  "  If  I  am  not  elected,  I  cannot 
be  saved."  This  is  making  a  false  issue  altogether. 
The  great  question  for  me,  as  a  sinner  for  whom 
Christ  died,  and  to  whom  the  offer  of  eternal  life 
has  been  made,  a  sinner  responsible  to  God  and  to 
my  own  soul  for  every  step  I  take,  and  every  de- 


312  MAN   UNWILLING   TO   BE   SAVED. 

cision  I  form,  and  every  choice  I  make  in  reference 
to  my  everlasting  interests,  is,  am  I  willing  to  em 
brace  the  offer  of  eternal  life  which  is  placed  before 
me  ?  If  I  am  not,  it  is  not  God's  purpose,  but  my 
own  election  in  opposition  to  the  will  and  com 
mandment  of  God,  which  destroys  me,  body  and 
soul  for  ever.  This  is  the  thought  I  would  have 
distinctly  apprehended,  and  which  I  would  throw 
with  all  its  fearful  and  crushing  weight  upon  the 
conscience  of  every  man  who  has  not  accepted  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

Divest  the  thought  for  a  moment  from  its  rela 
tion  to  ourselves.  Go  back  to  the  scene  where  the 
voice  of  "  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to  men," 
was  heard  breaking  from  the  heavens  when  the 
sun  of  righteousness  rose  in  spotless  and  unsha 
dowed  splendour  upon  the  plains  and  mountains  of 
Judea,  and  lest  the'  light  should  dazzle,  and  the 
heat  destroy,  gentleness  and  condescension  tempered 
his  rays ;  and  the  languishing  revived,  and  the  dy 
ing  lived.  And  surely  the  favoured  people  hailed 
his  rising ;  and  the  voice,  "  Come  unto  me,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest,"  awakened  strains  of  gratitude 
and  joy  as  they  exclaimed,  "  Lo  !  this  is  our  God,  we 
have  waited  for  him,  and  he  will  save  us  ;  lo  !  this 
is  the  Lord,  we  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  his  sal 
vation."  But,  no  !  they  saw  no  beauty  in  him  that 
they  should  desire  him ;  they  did  but  glance  at 
his  glories,  and  then  firmly  closed  their  eyes  against 
his  penetrating  beams,  and  retired  into  the  deep 
recesses  of  their  ignorance  and  unbelief,  lest  the 
light  of  life  should  shine  into  them.  And  since 


MAN   UNWILLING   TO    BE    SAVED.  313 

they  loved  darkness  rather  than  light,  because 
their  deeds  were  evil,  this  was  their  condemnation, 
they  found  the  night  they  sought,  a  night  without 
morning,  the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever. 

We  do  not,  for  a  moment,  question  the  equity  of 
God's  judicial  administration  in  their  case.  Dread 
ful  as  it  was,  it  was  no  more  than  their  flagrant 
and  inexcusable  unbelief  deserved.  "  But  think- 
est  thou,  O  man,  who  judgest  them  which  do 
such  things,  and  doest  the  same,  that  thou  shalt 
escape  the  judgment  of  God  ?"  To  what  in  your 
self  will  you  ascribe  that  which  in  others  you 
ascribe  to  criminality  ?  Compare  yourself  with  others 
upon  whom  you  have  been  sitting  in  judgment, 
and  wherein  are  you  dissimilar  ?  Be  not  deceived, 
God  is  not  mocked.  What  are  you  doing,  as  es 
tranged  from  him  who  came  to  save  you,  but  ful 
filling  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  the  mind,  and 
walking  in  your  own  chosen  way  ?  You  may  talk 
of  your  weakness,  your  inability  to  embrace  the 
offer  of  eternal  life  ;  but  if  you  felt  it,  it  might  give 
rise  not  to  apologies  but  to  sorrow,  and  lead  you 
to  humble  yourself  before  God,  and  exclaim,  "  O  ! 
wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death  T  But  when  or  where, 
my  hearer,  have  been  your  desires  for  the  salvation 
of  the  gospel  which  you  have  been  unable  to 
gratify  ?  In  what  hour  of  your  history, — be  candid 
with  yourself — did  you  ever  put  forth  an  effort  cor 
responding  in  any  just  degree  with  the  importance 
of  religion  and  eternity  ?  When  did  you  strive 
against  sin,  resist  the  devil,  and  agonize  to  enter 


314  MAN    UNWILLING    TO    BE   SAVED. 

in  at  the  straight  gate  ?  Rather  has  not  your 
heart  leaped  to  meet  the  follies  of  the  world,  and 
has  not  the  prince  of  darkness  been  invited  to  hold 
dominion  over  its  desires  ?  Have  you  not  exerted 
yourself  rather  to  repress  than  to  strengthen  reli 
gious  influence  in  the  soul  ?  Have  you  not  laboured 
to  resist  the  conviction  which  truth  has  sometimes 
forced  home  upon  the  mind,  and  fled  to  the  vani 
ties  of  earth  to  free  your  thoughts  from  the  intru 
sion  of  eternal  things  ?  Let  conscience  do  its  duty  ; 
let  it  speak  unchecked  by  the  influence  of  a  false 
philosophy,  or  a  crude  and  partial  theology ;  let 
conscience  freely  speak,  and  yield  its  first  unbi 
assed  testimony,  and  you  will  own  your  unbelief  to 
be  your  guilt,  your  separation  from  Christ  to  be 
the  result  of  your  own  choice. 

Talk  not,  my  beloved  hearer,  of  the  power  of  sur 
rounding  temptations,  which  constrain  your  move 
ments  contrary  to  your  better  feelings.  "What 
gives  these  temptations  their  power,  but  their  har 
mony  with  your  own  desires  ?  But  the  world  can 
not  constrain,  it  can  only  allure.  And  what  are 
the  allurements  of  the  world  compared  with  the 
attractions  of  the  cross  ?  Look  to  that  blessed, 
though  accursed  tree  on  which  Christ  your  Saviour 
loved  and  died  ;  look  to  the  peerless  glory  which 
now  encircles  him ;  and  remember  that  all  which 
his  sinless  blood  and  unknown  agony  could  merit ; 
that  all  the  grace  which  his  Spirit  can  aiford,  that 
all  the  bliss  which  his  presence  can  impart,  and  all 
the  honour,  inestimable  and  undying  which  he  can 
bestow,  are  yours,  unalterably,  for  ever  yours,  if 


MAN   UNWILLING    TO    BE   SAVED.  315 

you  will  embrace  his  offer.  Compared  with  such 
treasures  worldly  affluence,  worldly  joys,  diadems 
and  thrones  are  but  "  trifles  light  as  air ;"  and  if 
you  can  withstand  the  powerful  attractions  of  the 
cross,  oh  !  surely,  you  can,  if  you  will,  withstand 
the  pitiful  allurements  of  this  poor  and  fleeting 
world. 

My  beloved  hearers,  I  would  have  you  to  under 
stand  your  true  position  to-day,  and  to  apprehend 
the  truth  I  have  been  striving  to  commend  to  your 
mind.  I  appear  before  you,  a  messenger  from  a 
Redeemer's  cross,  empowered  to  publish  to  you  a 
full  and  free  salvation.  This  is  the  message  which 
I  am  instructed  to  lay  before  you,  "  Whosoever 
will,  may  take  the  water  of  life  freely."  If  you 
drink  not  it  is  because  you  will  not.  You  are  not 
straitened  in  God,  you  are  straitened  in  yourself. 
And  here,  in  the  name  of  the  Master,  in  whose 
words,  and  by  whose  authority  I  have  spoken,  I 
would  this  day,  in  view  of  the  judgment-seat  of  the 
Son  of  Man,  throw  over  the  responsibility  of  the 
result  upon  you  conscience.  God  has  put  it  there,  and 
there  it  must  remain.  You  never,  no  !  never,  while 
"  life,  or  thought,  or  being  lasts,  or  immortality  en 
dures,"  can  shake  off  that  dreadful  responsibility 
from  your  spirit.  At  times  you  feel  it  now,  and  it 
seems  a  crushing  weight,  as  you  know  you  are  not 
what  you  should  be ;  but  in  a  little  while,  after  a 
few  more  Sabbath  suns  shall  rise  and  set,  you  will 
perceive  it  more  distinctly  and  feel  it  more  deeply. 
And  if  it  sometimes  torments,  and  harasses,  and 
almost  crushes  you  now,  under  the  feeble  and  par- 


316  MAN    UNWILLING    TO    BE    SAVED. 

tial  light  which,  is  thrown  upon  it,  what  will  it  be 
in  the  light,  brilliant  and  unclouded,  of  the  judg 
ment  throne  ?  "  If  thou  hast  run  with  the  footmen 
and  they  have  wearied  thee,  then  how  canst  thou 
contend  with  horses  ?  And  if  in  the  land  of  peace 
wherein  thou  trustedst,  they  wearied  thee,  then 
how  wilt  thou  do  in  the  swelling  of  Jordan?'' 
We  can  shut  the  subject  from  our  thoughts  now, 
but  then  we  shall  not  be  able  to  do  so.  We  may 
invent  a  thousand  apologies,  and  they  may  satisfy 
conscience  now,  but  then  every  mouth  will  be 
stopped.  And  tell  me,  my  unconverted  hearers — 
bear,  I  pray  you,  with  the  pressure,  which  the  soli 
citudes  of  a  pastor's  heart  put  upon  you — tell  me 
what  you  wiil  answer,  when  he  whose  salvation 
was  proffered  to  you,  and  urged  upon  you,  and 
rejected  by  you,  shall  say,  as  at  the  last,  he  turns 
away  from  you  and  leaves  you  to  sink  in  the  dark 
ness  of  that  night  which  knows  no  morning — "  How 
often  would  I  have  gathered  you  together,  as  a  hen 
gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  but  ye 
would  not !" 

"  Stop,  0  !  stop  and  think,  before  you  further  go." 


A  STIFLED  CONSCIENCE. 


"  And  ag  lie  reasoned  of  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment  to 
come,  Felix  trembled." — ACTS  xxiv.  25. 

IT  lias  been  often  and  justly  remarked  concern 
ing  Felix,  the  Governor  of  Judea,  that  the  con 
venient  season  of  which  he  spake,  when  he  should 
give  attention  to  the  truths  which  now  agitated  his 
spirit,  never  arrived.  His  succeeding  history  pre 
sents  the  same  characteristics,  though  more  fully 
developed,  which  when  set  before  him  in  the  light 
of  truth,  made  him  tremble.  We  see  no  change  in 
him  but  for  the  worse ;  and  so  far  as  we  have  any  evi 
dence  concerning  his  end,  it  tells  us  that  he  utterly 
perished  in  his  own  corruption.  As  we  look  at  him, 
under  the  preaching  of  Paul,  we  find  that  he  had  a 
conscience,  a  conscience  which  reproved  him  of  sin 
and  filled  him  with  dire  apprehensions.  As  we 
look  at  him  afterward,  we  find  him  the  subject  of  a 
stifled  conscience,  going  on  from  bad  to  worse. 
"We  doubt  not  that  the  moment  when  Paul  rea 
soned  with  him  of  righteousness,  and  temperance, 
and  a  judgment  to  come,  was  a  crisis  in  his  moral 
history,  upon  his  action  in  which,  the  whole  charac- 


318  A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

ter  of  his  future  life  turned.  He  might,  at  the  bid 
ding  of  conscience,  and  under  the  teachings  of  the 
truth,  have  changed  his  whole  course  and  become 
a  new  man,  but  he  stifled  those  monitions,  and  re 
sisted  those  teachings,  and  went  on  more  confirmed, 
and  hopelessly  confirmed  in  his  old  unrighteousness. 

In  this  brief  exhibition  of  the  text,  and  its  con 
nections,  we  have  presented  to  us  a  subject  of  pain 
ful,  but  intensely  interesting  study.  It  is  the  hu 
man  mind,  in  two  distinct  states,  or  stages  of  its 
spiritual  history — first,  as  agitated  in  view  of  the 
appeals  which  truth  addresses  to  the  conscience, 
the  subject  of  strong  moral  influences,  and  of 
clear  and  decided  convictions  of  truth  and  duty ; 
the  other  is  that  state,  in  which  after  having 
resisted  these  influences  and  suppressed  these  con 
victions,  it  remains  inaccessible  to  the  power  of 
truth,  and  goes  on  in  a  career  of  determined  and 
growing  sinfulness,  uninfluenced  by  any  of  the  coun 
teracting  agencies  which  may  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  it.  The  two  states  are  intimately  connected 
with  each  other,  the  movements  of  the  mind  in 
the  one  state  determining  the  character  of  the 
other.  And  thus  we  have  before  us  the  thought 
upon  which  we  design  to  dwell  this  morning. 
A  stifled  human  conscience,  or  in  other  words,  the 
nature  and  consequences  of  resisting  one's  own  con 
victions  of  truth  and  duty.  Without  any  further 
introduction,  then,  we  proceed  to  the  illustration  of 
our  general  thought. 

The  careful  observer  of  human  things  cannot 
have  failed  to  notice  the  fact  that  every  man's 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  319 

peculiar  history  dates  its  commencement,  and  takes 
its  cast  from  his  conduct  in  some  particular  com 
bination  of  circumstances.  It  is  true,  as  a  general 
principle,  that  one  period  of  life  regulates  to  a  very 
great  extent  those  which  succeed  it,  and  certain 
trains  of  conduct  give  shape  and  colouring  and 
character  to  those  which  follow  them  ;  thus  youth 
receives  its  cast  from  childhood,  and  in  its  turn 
gives  a  cast  to  mature  years.  In  early  life  ele 
ments  not  unfrequently  disclose  themselves  which 
promise  future  dignity  and  usefulness,  or  threaten 
future  inefficiency,  degradation,  and  crime.  The 
analogy  in  this  respect  is  very  striking  between 
the  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  world.  A  de 
formity  resulting  from  accident  or  carelessness  in 
early  life  regulates  all  subsequent  bodily  develop- 
'ments.  The  mental  powers,  when  fully  disclosed, 
shew  the  character  of  the  early  training  to  which 
they  were  subject,  and  in  the  absence  of  powerful 
counteracting  causes  the  moral  temper  of  maturer 
years  will  be  but  the  clearer  and  fuller  develop 
ment  of  the  spirit  of  childhood. 

Without  giving  countenance  to  any  of  those 
forms  of  fatalism  now  so  current  in  the  community 
which  make  man  the  sport  of  casualties,  and  give 
to  events  an  irresistible  power  to  control  his 
character  and  destiny,  in  perfect  consistency  with 
his  entire  freedom  of  action,  we  may  say  that  there 
is  generally,  in  every  man's  history,  some  particular 
combination  of  circumstances,  his  conduct  in  which 
determines  the  whole  course  of  his  after  life.  The 
idea  which  I  make  the  basis  of  my  illustration  this 


320  A    STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

morning-  will  be  perceived  in  view  of  facts  with 
which,  doubtless,  many  of  my  hearers  are  familiar. 
There  have  been  men  in  our  world  who  at  a  criti 
cal  juncture  of  their  temporal  affairs  have  taken 
some  immoral  step;  as  you  have  looked  at  their 
subsequent  course,  you  have  found  them  unable  to 
recover  themselves  from  the  influence  of  that  step  ; 
it  has  followed  them  continually,  marring  their 
every  project,  defeating  their  every  plan,  and  they 
have  passed  onward  in  their  course  exhibiting  a 
character  constantly  deteriorating  in  a  moral  point 
of  view  until  death  has  closed  their  earthly  career. 
Now,  it  strikes  me,  that  a  principle  which  thus 
runs  through  the  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral 
world,  must  find  some  analogies  in  the  spiritual 
world  likewise,  and  the  exhibition  of  those  analo 
gies  is  our  object  on  the  present  occasion.  If  it  is 
true  that  man's  conduct  in  early  life  has  an  impor 
tant  bearing  upon  his  temporal  relations,  it  may  be 
true  that  it  has  an  important  bearing  upon  his 
eternal  relations  likewise.  For  ourselves,  we  be 
lieve  that  in  the  majority  of  cases,  if  the  truth  upon 
this  point  could  be  reached,  it  would  appear  that 
the  question  of  man's  destiny  is  settled  before  his 
habits  of  thought  and  feeling  are  confirmed,  and  he 
is  found  busied  amid  the  cares  and  perplexities  and 
struggles  of  life  ;  his  conduct  anterior  to  that  time 
has  shaped  his  course  and  determined  its  results. 
There  have  been  in  his  spiritual  history  circum 
stances,  his  conduct  in  which  has  placed  him  be 
yond  the  reach  of  change ;  in  wThich  his  spiritual 
relations  have  been  altered ;  a  crisis  in  his  history 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  321 

when  lie  was  introduced  to  an  acquaintance  with, 
the  hopes  and  joys,  and  sanctifying  influence  of  the 
gospel,  or  when  a  seal  was  put  upon  him  which, 
humanly  speaking,  determined  his  condition  as 
hopeless.  "Whether  this  be  so  to  the  full  extent  of 
our  supposition  or  not,  this  much  is  certain,  there 
is  in  every  man's  history  a  combination  of  circum 
stances,  a  crisis,  his  conduct  in  which  determines 
whether  his  character  in  a  spiritual  point  of  view 
shall  deteriorate,  and  his  prospects  of  future  good 
become  more  equivocal,  or  his  character  improve 
in  moral  excellence,  and  his  hope  grow  brighter. 

To  some  of  these  circumstances,  and  to  man's 
conduct  in  them  leading  to  such  issues,  we  shall 
turn  our  attention,  and  we  ask  our  hearers  to  fol 
low  us  step  by  step,  and  closely  examine  the  posi 
tions  we  assume. 

The  salvation  of  the  soul,  my  brethren,  is  always 
to  be  viewed  in  connection  with,  and  as  dependent 
upon  the  influence  of  the  gospel.  We  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  the  gospel  has  in  itself  any  direct 
efficiency,  but  that  such  is  the  constitution  of  the 
human  mind,  and  such  the  corresponding  arrange 
ments  of  God,  that  men  are  not  ordinarily  con 
verted,  separate  from  the  means  which  God  has 
wisely  appointed.  I  bring  in  this  thought  here, 
to  neutralize  the  influence  of  a  sentiment  enter 
tained  by  some,  that  circumstances,  or  a  man's  con 
duct  in  them,  can  have  no  vital  bearing  upon  the 
result  of  his  conversion,  which  is  brought  about  by 
a  power  above  all  circumstances,  and  which  in  fact 
controls  them.  True  it  is,  that  man  becomes  the 
21 


322  A   STIFLED   CONSCIENCE. 

subject  of  a  spiritual  change  by  the  agency  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  but  that  agency  is  put  forward  in  con 
nection  with  means  ;  and  if  the  sentiment  adverted 
to  is  good  for  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  used,  it  is 
equally  good  to  prove  that  the  means  of  God's  ap 
pointment  have  no  manner  of  connection  with  con 
version  as  an  end  ;  that  the  end  is  quite  as  probable 
without  them  as  with  them,  and  that  God's  ability 
to  work  a  miracle  is  a  good  ground  for  their  belief 
that  he  will  do  so.  And  yet,  in  opposition  to  this,  men 
feel  universally  that  there  is  a  very  great  difference, 
so  far  as  their  prospects  for  eternity  is  concerned,  be 
tween  those  who  are,  and  those  who  are  not  favored 
with  the  means  of  grace.  Not  one  of  us  would  ex 
change  his  circumstances  in  this  respect  for  those  of 
an  opposite  character,  shewing  that  however  we  may 
reason  from  the  efficiency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  circum 
stances  have,  in  our  own  estimation,  a  very  important 
bearing  upon  the  question  of  our  destiny.  In  short, 
it  is  a  common-sense  opinion,  wrhich  no  reasoning  can 
change,  a  deep-seated  feeling  which  no  philosophy 
can  eradicate,  that  when  a  man  has  placed  himself 
beyond  the  reach  of  means,  he  has  placed  himself 
beyond  the  reach  of  hope.  It  is  immaterial  to  the 
point,  what  agency  secures  the  conversion  of  the 
soul,  if  that  agency  is  put  forth  only  in  circumstan 
ces  in  which  I  never  can  be  placed ;  and  so  far  as  a 
man's  conduct  has  an  influence  in  defining  his  posi 
tion,  so  far  has  his  conduct  a  happy  or  a  disastrous 
bearing  upon  the  question  of  his  eventual  safety. 

We  will  then  take  a  man  and  place  him  under 
the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  the  means  of  grace. 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  323 

It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  there  is  much  which  is 
stirring  and  exciting  in  revealed  truth.  There  is 
a  remarkable  adaptation  on  the  part, of  the  gospel 
both  to  the  conscience  and  the  heart.  Under  its 
developments  feeling  is  often  enkindled  which  con 
cedes  the  righteousness  of  its  claims,  and  does 
honour  to  the  power  of  its  motives.  Facts  in  every 
day's  history  show  how  the  human  mind  may  be 
reached  by  the  simple  verities  of  the  gospel,  and 
thrown  into  a  mood  of  though  tfuln  ess  upon  spirit 
ual  subjects.  Whatever  may  be  a  man's  control 
ling  spirit,  there  are  seasons  when  subjected  to 
the  power  of  heavenly  truth,  it  is  for  the  moment, 
at  least,  suspended  in  its  influence.  It  often  is  so 
in  the  house  of  God,  when  he  who  ministers  the 
sacred  oracles  arms  himself  with  the  strength  of  his 
master,  and  brings  the  mighty  force  of  truth  to 
bear  upon  the  conscience.  Though  there  may  in 
such  circumstances  be  no  outward  display  of  tremu- 
lousness,  there  are  beating  hearts,  and  throbbing 
and  agitated  spirits.  If  the  attention  is  once  gained, 
and  rivetted  to  the  declarations  of  the  inspired  tes 
timony,  very  little  effort  is  required  to  awaken 
feeling.  There  is  not  an  announcement  of  God's 
word  which,  when  its  nature  is  distinctly  perceived, 
does  not  commend  itself  as  reasonable  to  the  mind, 
and  which,  when  its  claims  are  presented  in  the  light 
of  their  own  appropriate  enforcements,  does  not  kin 
dle  conviction  of  duty,  and  a  feeling  of  self  reflection 
on  account  of  its  neglect.  I  am  not  surely  speak 
ing  mysteries  to  any  who  hear  me,  for  within  the 
walls  of  this  sanctuary  has  the  gospel  been  hon- 


324  A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

cured  in  its  truth,  and  felt  in  itspower,  as  here 
under  its  simple  ministration  has  many  a  wakeful 
conscience,  and  many  a  beating  soul  testified  to 
the  righteousness  of  its  claims,  and  the  forceful- 
ness  of  their  sanctions. 

Similar  states  of  mind  are  sometimes  produced 
under  the  influence  of  divine  providence,  when 
God  so  arranges  or  disorders  men's  private  circum 
stances  as  to  compel  thought ;  yet  here  you  will 
perceive,  that  as  in  the  other  cases,  thought  has 
been  kindled  in  view  of  truth,  and  the  only  differ 
ence  is,  that  in  one  case  truth  has  been  ministered 
by  the  liviog  voice,  and  in  the  other  by  the  provi 
dence  of  God. 

We  direct  your  attention  then,  for  a  moment,  to 
the  human  mind  in  these  circumstances,  and  ask 
you  to  analyze  its  experiences.  Thought  is  awak 
ened  in  view  of  truth  and  duty,  set  out  in  the 
broad,  clear  light  of  the  gospel.  There  is  a  con 
viction  of  error,  of  guilt,  of  danger ;  there  is  self- 
dissatisfaction  ;  and  the  man  retires  perhaps  from 
the  scenes  amid  which  his  mind  has  been  so  stirred 
within  him,  feeling  the  necessity  of  subduing  the 
spirit  which  has  carried  him  away  from  the  path 
of  truth  and  duty,  and  purposing  to  wrestle 
against  it,  and  if  possible  to  obtain  the  mastery. 
The  movements  of  the  conscience  of  Felix  under 
the  demonstrations  of  Paul,  were  not  unaccom 
panied  by  purposes  and  resolutions. 

And,  my  brethren,  is  this  the  whole  of  it  ?  Are 
there  no  results  pending  ?  Are  there  no  conse 
quences  of  mighty  magnitude  hanging  upon  the 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  325 

conduct  of  a  man  in  these  peculiar  circumstances  ? 
Or  is  it  not  so,  must  it  not  be  so,  that  there  is  here 
something  like  a  crisis  in  his  moral  and  spiritual 
history,  which  is  to  throw  its  influence  over  his 
whole  future  course,  if  not  to  give  shape  and  char 
acter  to  his  future  destiny  ?  Let  us  look  at  this 
question  for  a  moment. 

We  suppose  then,  for  the  sake  of  example,  that 
in  these  circumstances,  the  subject  of  such  exercises 
yields  to  his  own  convictions,  and  at  once  carries 
out  his  purpose  into  execution,  in  an  intelligent  and 
cheerful  submission  to  the  terms  and  requirements 
of  the  gospel.  And  do  you  not  perceive  that  all 
his  spiritual  relations  are  at  once  changed,  and  that 
a  new  light  is  thrown  upon  his  future  experience  ? 
If  he  has  truly  given  himself  up  to  the  service  of 
Jesus  Christ,  he  never  will  be  the  same  man  he 
was  before.  In  every  respect,  of  character,  condi 
tion,  prospects,  he  is  an  altered  man.  He  has 
commenced  a  process  of  improvement,  and  his  path 
will  be  "  as  the  shining  light,  which  shineth  more 
and  more  unto  the  perfect  day."  What  has  been 
the  spiritual  history  of  every  true  Christian,  but 
the  history  of  a  process  of  ongoing  sanctification, 
commencing  with  such  a  movement  of  his  mind  in 
circumstances  like  those  we  have  detailed  ? 

We  make  an  opposite  supposition,  and  we  think 
you  will  find  the  converse  of  the  foregoing  state 
ment  to  be  true.  We  set  before  you  now,  a  man 
who  in  these  circumstances  turns  away  from  the 
commandment  delivered  unto  him.  It  is  immate 
rial  how  this  movement  of  his  mind  is  explained, 


326  A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

so  long  as  the  fact  is  certain.  The  impressions  of 
truth  wear  away,  his  convictions  are  hushed,  his 
purposes  are  forgotten,  and  he  appears  to  be  the 
same  he  was  before.  It  may  have  been  the  re 
sult  of  resistance  offered,  either  directly  or  indirectly, 
to  the  responses  of  his  own  mind  to  the  truth  and 
Spirit  of  the  living  God.  It  may  have  been  the 
result  either  of  an  intelligent  throwing  away  from 
him  of  the  truth  which  has  affected  him,  or  of  an 
effort  to  relieve  himself  from  its  present  pressure, 
by  a  simple  postponement  of  its  claims  to  a  more 
convenient  season,  as  it  was  in  the  case  of  Felix ; 
but  in  either  case,  according  as  the  convictions  of 
truth  and  duty  have  been  more  or  less  clear  and 
deep,  there  has  been  a  conflict  more  or  less  painful 
and  severe  between  them  and  the  desires  of  their 
heart.  His  energies  must  have  been  taxed  for 
strength  to  oppose  the  influences  which  acted  upon 
him,  or  his  ingenuity  for  cunning  to  evade  their 
force.  In  whatever  way  he  may  accomplish  his  pur 
pose,  he  at  all  events  succeeds  in  mastering  his  con 
science,  and  in  schooling  his  moral  sensibilities  to 
submission  to  the  dictates  of  a  sinful  and  deceitful 
heart,  and  he  appears  to  be  what  he  was  before— 
but  when  this  process  is  ended,  and  he  who  but 
just  now  trembled  under  the  truth  is  unmoved  and 
unaffected,  is  he  really  the  same,  has  no  change 
whatever  come  over  the  spirit  of  that  man,  over  his 
relations  and  his  prospects  ?  Or  is  it  not  so,  that  he 
has  gathered  about  him  the  shades  of  a  deeper 
depravity,  wrapped  himself  in  a  garb  of  more  im 
penetrable  adamant,  and  stirred  still  more  bitter 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  32  T 

ingredients  into  the  cup  from  which  hereafter  he 
must  hereafter  drink  ?  Was  it  not  so  with  Felix  ? 
And  must  it  not  be  so  with  every  one,  who  in  the 
same  circumstances  acts  the  same  part,  as  the 
movements  of  the  human  mind  are  uniform,  regu 
lated  by  the  same  general  laws  ?  This  is  the  plain, 
but  at  the  same  time  startling  and  thrilling  doc 
trine,  which  I  wish  to  commend  to  the  minds  of  my 
hearers.  Here  you  have  the  picture  of  a  stifled 
conscience,  in  the  results  which  it  certainly  developes. 
I.  In  commending  this  doctrine,  there  are  three 
views  of  these  results  which  I  wish  to  set  before 
you;  the  first  respects  the  moral  and  spiritual 
character  of  their  subjects.  I  need  not  surely  say 
to  any  of  you,  my  brethren,  who  believe  in  these 
sacred  oracles,  or  who  have  been  at  all  attentive 
students  of  human  history,  that  by  nature  the  ten 
dency  of  the  human  mind  is  sinful.  We  do  not 
enter  upon  a  philosophical  inquiry  here  which  would 
carry  us  too  far  away  from  the  object  at  present 
before  us.  We  assume  the  fact  as  granted  by  those 
to  whom  we  address  our  argument.  It  is  certain, 
moreover,  that  the  outward  developments  of  moral 
feeling  are  regulated,  checked  or  fostered  by  cir 
cumstances  and  influences  of  God's  arrangement. 
Among  these  influences,  conscience  as  the  most 
powerful,  holds,  probably,  the  most  important 
place.  In  fact,  it  is  by  means  of  conscience  mainly 
that  God  controls  his  sinful  subjects.  So  long  as 
it  remains  unperverted,  no  one  can  advance  any 
great  length  in  outbreaking  sin  ;  and  sinfulness  is 
progressive  only  as  man  obtains  by  degrees  the 


328  A    STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

ascendancy  of  his  moral  judgment.  Hence  the 
plain  inference,  that  every  new  triumph  over  con 
science  is  connected  with  a  new  impulse  in  the 
career  of  unholiness,  and  the  more  unequivocal  the 
dictates  of  conscience  which  have  been  silenced, 
the  clearer  and  brighter  the  light  of  it  which  has 
been  put  out,  the  deeper  the  succeeding  dark 
ness,  and  the  fewer  and  feebler  the  restraints  to 
lawless  desire,  and  the  more  rapid  and  fearful  the 
development  of  the  innate  depravity  of  the  human 
heart.  The  man  whose  case  we  have  been  con 
sidering  is  one  who  has  succeeded  in  stifling  his 
conscience  when  it  acted  under  the  clear  and  de 
cided  light  of  God's  truth.  Its  convictions,  which 
he  could  not  disprove,  and  its  remonstrances  in  all 
their  palpable  propriety,  have  been  overborne  in 
the  conflict  with  the  heart.  Worldly  ambition, 
carnal  passion,  sinful  desire  have  triumphed  over 
it  when  it  acted  in  circumstances  most  favourable 
to  its  success.  And  do  you  think  that  the  subject 
of  these  experiences  will,  in  the  same  circumstances, 
ever  be  similarly  affected  by  the  truth  of  God  ? 
Will  he  tremble  as  he  formerly  did  in  view  of  sin, 
and  shrink  back  from  the  thought  of  trifling  with 
sacred  things?  Or,  having  broken  through  the 
restraints  which  controlled  him,  will  he  not  feel  a 
freedom  in  sin,  and  be  prepared  to  perpetrate 
without  much  scruple  actions  at  which,  antecedent 
to  these  struggles  with  his  conscience,  his  soul 
would  have  shuddered?  In  this  simple  thought, 
we  have  the  whole  philosophy  of  progressive  ini 
quity.  We  have  explained  to  us,  what  to  many 


A    STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  329 

wears  an  aspect  of  mystery — how  a  man  can  go  on 
step  by  step  in  a  downward  course,  becoming  less 
accessible  to  the  influences  of  good,  and  more  and 
more  open  to  the  suggestions  of  evil.  His  onward 
movement  has  its  stages  distinctly  marked  by  con 
tests  within,  a  mysterious  something  within  him  to 
which  he  has  risen  superior,  and  at  each  of  these 
stages  he  has  received  a  new  impulse  in  his  down 
ward  course,  until,  at  last,  his  character  becomes 
that  of  one  who,  neither  fearing  God  nor  regarding 
man,  drinks  in  iniquity  like  water,  and  sins  without 
compunction  and  without  remorse. 

I  am  not  dealing  in  fancies,  believe  me,  my 
brethren,  as  I  give  utterance  to  these  solemn 
thoughts.  Alas  !  alas !  the  world  is  too  full  of 
their  painful  illustrations,  to  leave  room  for  any 
skepticism  here.  You  will  find  them  in  the  con 
trasts  which  men,  no  more  matured  in  age  than  in 
every  form  of  ungodliness,  whose  consciences  seem 
to  be  buried  in  the  darkness  of  an  eternal  death, 
present  to  the  quick  susceptibility  of  impression, 
and  tender  moral  sensibilities  of  their  early  years. 
You  will  find  them  in  the  children  of  prayers,  and 
tears,  and  parental  instruction,  who  for  a  while,  it 
may  be,  moved  on  full  of  promise  and  of  hope,  till 
they  were  brought  by  the  Providence  of  God  into 
decisive  circumstances,  where  the  light  of  truth 
shone  with  mor  ;  than  ordinary  brilliancy  in  upon 
their  minds,  and  they  felt  in  deeper  and  more  aw 
ful  sincerity  than  ever  the  impressive  simplicities 
of  the  gospel,  as  conscience  spake  with  unusual 
power,  and  with  unwonted  emphasis.  That  was  a 


330  A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

crisis  in  their  history.  There  was  a  severe  struggle 
between  a  sense  of  duty,  and  the  love  of  sin — 
doubtfully  for  a  time  may  the  conflict  have  been 
waged — but  eventually  the  love  of  sin  triumphed, 
and  they  who  before  would  have  paused  in  their 
course,  in  view  of  the  simplest  prohibition  of  the 
word  of  God,  who  would  have  melted  down  under 
the  influences  of  heavenly  entreaty,  are  heedless  to 
the  one,  and  insensible  to  the  other  ;  yea,  are  often 
heard  boasting  their  deliverance  from  the  preju 
dices  of  early  education,  and  as  an  evidence  of 
their  emancipation,  sporting  on  the  lip  of  profanity 
the  solemn  realities,  in  view  of  which  once  they 
trembled,  and  laughing  with  an  almost  maniac's 
sneer  at  the  influences  which  formerly  controlled 
them.  And  when  the  convictions  of  which  men 
have  been  the  subjects  have  been  peculiarly  deep, 
and  the  struggles  through  which  they  have  passed 
have  been  severe,  you  will  often  find  their  subjects 
coming  forth  unsubdued  by  all  of  them,  and  enter 
ing  upon  a  course,  in  which  in  respect  to  principle, 
they  seldom  stop  short  of  the  most  unblushing  in 
fidelity,  and  in  respect  to  practice,  they  give  them 
selves  up  to  an  open  abandonment  to  every  vice. 
Such  are  the  effects  of  a  stifled  conscience  upon 
the  character,  more  or  less  strikingly  manifested, 
as  the  convictions  stifled  have  been  more  or  less 
deep,  and  the  efforts  to  overcome  them  conse 
quently  more  or  less  severe. 

II.  I  turn  to  another  view  of  my  subject,  viz.,  the 
results  of  the  course  I  have  described,  upon  the 
moral  and  spiritual  'condition  of  its  subject.  We 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  331 

use  the  term  condition  here,  to  designate  the  state 
of  a  man  in  relation  to  any  particular  experience, 
or  event,  as  that  state  is  defined  by  the  circum 
stances  in  which  he  is  placed.  A  man's  worldly 
condition  is  determined  from  his  temporal  circum 
stances,  as  they  administer  to  his  present  happi 
ness  or  discomfort,  or  may  be  ominous  of  his 
coming  prosperity  or  adversity.  And  a  man's 
spiritual  condition  is  determined  by  his  circum 
stances,  as  they  bear  upon  the  question  of  his 
future  destiny. 

The  salvation  of  any  man  out  of  the  kingdom 
of  God,  is,  as  yet,  an  unsolved  problem,  because 
there  are  difficulties  to  be  overcome,  which  we 
cannot  say  that  he  will  ever  master,  and  sacrifices 
to  be  made  to  which  we  do  not  know  that  he  ever 
will  submit — and  yet  the  circumstances  of  some 
men  are  more  favorable  to  a  happy  issue  than 
those  of  others,  simply  because  some  men  are  more 
accessible  to  the  influence  of  the  truth  than  are 
others  ;  and  a  man's  circumstances  are  promising  or 
otherwise,  according  as  they  prepare  the  mind  for 
and  give  enforcement  to  these  influences,  or  tend 
to  close  the  mind  against  them,  or  neutralize  their 
power.  A  man's  relation  to  the  means  of  grace 
may  be  determined  by  feeling  as  well  as  by  local 
ity — that  is,  a  man  living  under  the  light,  and 
blessed  with  the  privileges  of  the  gospel,  may  be, 
on  account  of  his  moral  feelings,  as  wholly  unaf 
fected  by  them  as  though  he  were  living  in  a  land 
of  pagan  darkness.  Upon  a  man  who  closes  his 
eyes,  an  object  set  before  him  will  produce  no 


332  A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

more  effect  than  if  it  had  no  existence.  The 
thought  then,  I  would  here  have  you  ponder  is, 
that  a  stifled  conscience  puts  a  man  in  a  position 
where  the  truth  of  God  has  no  effect  upon  him. 
The  conversion  of  the  soul  is  difficult,  because  it  is 
difficult  to  make  upon  the  minds  of  men  deep  and 
effective  impressions  of  spiritual  things.  They 
may  be  brought  under  the  action  of  the  gospel, 
and  summoned  to  think  upon  themes  of  an  import 
so  high  and  solemn,  that  one  would  suppose  they 
never  could  forget  them ;  and  yet  they  carry  away 
with  them  an  impression,  at  best,  but  transient,  of 
the  truths  with  which  they  have  been  communing, 
and  that  because  the  conscience,  to  which  these 
truths  appeal,  is  laid  in  so  deep  a  slumber ;  hence, 
the  man  who  by  stifling  his  conscience  has  obtained 
the  completest  mastery  over  it,  and  has  laid  it  in 
the  deepest  slumber,  is  most  inaccessible  to  the 
influences  of  the  truth,  and  consequently  in  the 
most  hopeless  spiritual  condition.  Never  is  man 
brought  into  that  state  in  which  he  becomes  the 
subject  of  a  spiritual  change,  except  as  his  con 
science  is  roused  to  action  under  the  influence  of 
heavenly  truth.  While  it  slumbers,  all  our  demon 
strations,  however  clear,  and  all  our  appeals,  how 
ever  forceful,  are  but  "  like  a  lovely  song  of  one 
who  hath  a  pleasant  voice  and  can  play  well  on  an 
instrument" — as  pleasing  it  may  be  to  the  ear,  but 
as  evanescent  in  their  impression  upon  the  mind ; 
and  when  we  know  that  stifling  conscience  is  but 
throwing  it  into  a  stupor,  we  can  easily  understand 
that  he  who  has  been  able  to  keep  it  down,  and  to 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  333 

smother  its  remonstrances,  under  the  clearest  light 
of  the  gospel,  has,  in  so  doing,  triumphed  over  his 
better  self,  and  over  all  that  is  powerful  in  the 
means  of  grace,  and  all  that  was  hopeful  in  his 
condition — and  when  you  look  at  him,  after  having 
thus  mastered  his  conscience,  sitting  unmoved  when 
the  messenger  of  truth  takes  his  stand  for  God, 
and  clearly  illustrates  and  enforces  with  mighty 
urgency  the  claims  of  his  Saviour,  it  seems  as 
though  all  that  was  impressible  about  him,  had 
been  turned  to  ice  and  iron  and  adamant ;  and  we 
do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  as  he  has  rendered  him 
self  more  inaccessible  to  recovering  influences,  he 
has  to  the  same  degree,  rendered  his  spiritual  con 
dition  hopeless.  You  have  then  the  premises  and 
conclusion  of  my  argument  before  you.  The  most 
hopeless  of  God's  creatures  in  this  world,  is  not, 
necessarily,  the  man  of  the  greatest  outward  defor 
mities  of  character,  not  necessarily  the  man  of  the 
fewest  spiritual  advantages,  but  the  man  of  the 
most ;  the  man  who  has  been  the  subject  of  the 
deepest  and  most  pungent  convictions  of  truth  and 
duty,  which  he  has  mastered ;  the  man  who  has 
been  brought  nearest  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
yet  has  never  entered  it. 

III.  I  have  one  more  view  of  my  subject.  What 
kind  of  an  experience,  hereafter,  think  you,  must  a 
stifled  conscience  describe  ?  It  is  unquestionably 
true,  that  the  scenes  through  which  we  are  passing 
now,  and  our  action  in  them,  have  something  to  do 
with  our  coming  destiny ;  and  if  I  mistake  not,  the 
workings  of  our  minds  now  will  show  with  some  dis- 


334  A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

tinctness  what  will  be  the  workings  of  our  minds 
hereafter.  It  is  perfectly  immaterial  whether  you 
look  at  the  coming  scenes  in  the  light  of  inflicted 
punishment,  or  as  the  results  of  the  natural  opera 
tions  of  the  human  mind.  In  either  view  the  sub 
ject  of  a  stifled  conscience  must  prepare  for  a  bitter 
experience.  The  teaching  of  the  Bible  upon  the 
subject  of  retribution,  is  very  simple.  "Unto 
whomsoever  much  is  given,  of  him  shall  much  be 
required."  Responsibility,  and  of  course  guilt,  are 
measured  by  the  light  and  privileges  enjoyed,  and 
there  will  be  degrees  in  punishment,  as  there  are 
gradations  in  wickedness.  And  upon  whom  can 
we  fix,  as  in  circumstances  of  greater  responsibility, 
than  upon  the  man  upon  whom  not  merely  the 
truth  of  God  has  been  brought  to  act,  but  upon 
whom  that  action  has  been  effective,  into  whose 
mind  the  Spirit  of  God  has  been  pouring  light, 
and  upon  whose  heart  the  most  solemn  and  im 
pressive  motives  have  been  urged  ?  The  man  who 
in  these  circumstances  does  not  bow  to  the  authori 
tative  announcement  of  heaven,  robs  himself  for 
ever  of  the  plea  of  ignorance  in  extenuation  of  his 
guilt,  or  in  abatement  of  the  fearfulness  of  his  com 
ing  catastrophe.  And  if  his  doom,  in  its  sorrows, 
is  to  be  determined  from  the  intelligence  which 

O 

has  marked  his  spiritual  resistances,  oh !  there 
must  be  many  stripes  for  him,  because  he  knew  his 
Master's  will.  Better  for  him.  that  his  conscience 
never  should  have  been  roused  to  action,  than  that 
it  should  have  awakened  only  to  drink  the  ano 
dyne  which  he  himself  had  mingled  for  it. 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  335 

Or,  look  at  the  coming  scenes  of  another  world, 
simply  as  the  natural  results  of  our  feelings  and 
movements  here  ;  and  is  not  he  who  is  smothering 
the  reproofs  of  his  spirit,  and  hushing  the  remon 
strances  of  this  faithful  monitor  within  him,  laying 
up  the  stings  and  the  goads  which  shall  madden 
him  for  ever  ?  Will  not  the  spirit  which  is  so  in 
genious  now,  in  inventing  excuses  for  sin,  and 
methods  for  getting  rid  of  convictions  of  truth  and 
duty,  be  equally  ingenious  hereafter,  in  teaching 
the  undying  worm  new  modes  of  torture.  He 
cannot  then  but  see  that  the  cup  of  sorrow  from 
which  he  drinks,  has  been  mingled  by  himself,  as 
he  finds  that  the  repressed  movements  of  con 
science,  its  smothered  convictions,  its  hushed 
remonstrances,  constitute  its  bitterest  ingredients ; 
and  the  reason  why  he  cannot  escape  from,  or  alle 
viate  his  miseries,  will  be  that  he  cannot  escape 
from  or  blot  out  the  remembrance  of  himself. 

Believe  me,  my  brethren,  there  is  an  intimate  con 
nection  between  the  scenes  through  which  we  are 
passing  now,  and  the  scenes  amid  which  we  are  to 
mingle  hereafter.  You  and  I,  and  all  men  every 
where,  are  now  defining  the  future,  and  giving  birth 
to  the  elements  of  its  experience.  And  he  who 
now  moves  upon  the  confines  of  the  kingdom  of 
God,  without  entering  it,  will  move  at  the  greatest 
distance  from  it  forever.  We  had  better  not  think 
upon  spiritual  things,  if  thought  amounts  to  no 
thing.  We  had  better  not  feel  under  the  influ 
ence  of  spiritual  realities,  if  feeling  does  not  lead 
to  obedience  to  the  truth.  Better  that  we  should 


336  A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

never  have  known  any  tiring  of  the  way  of  righ 
teousness,  if  we  do  not  walk  in  it.  Better  had  it 
been  for  Felix  if  Paul  had  never  reasoned  with  him 
on  "righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment  to 
come,"  or  had  he  never  trembled  under  the  truth. 
Of  the  general  subject,  which  I  have  thus  set 
before  you,  it  is  hardly  necessary  for  m.e  to  make  a 
particular  application,  for  I  see  not  how  any  one 
uninterested  in  Jesus  Christ,  can  fail  to  take  it 
home  to  himself.  We  are  here,  my  brethren,  in 
the  providence  of  God,  under  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel.  It  cannot  be  that  the  ministrations  of 
the  truth  have  been  powerless  upon  the  conscience, 
or  that  the  appeals  of  the  gospel  have  been  with 
out  effect  upon  the  mind.  It  cannot  be  that  the 
providence  of  God  has  in  vain  seconded  these  min 
istrations,  or  to  no  purpose  added  its  enforcements 
to  the  truth.  Experience  has  proved  that  uni 
formly,  in  these  circumstances,  thought  is  awakened, 
and  feeling  more  or  less  deep  is  kindled,  and  that 
men  have  evidence  within  them,  of  the  reality  of 
that  mighty  agency  which  works  upon  the  mind 
and  heart  in  connection  with  a  preached  gospel. 
You  will  let  me  speak  to  you,  my  brethren,  not  in 
unkiudness,  but  from  the  fulness  of  a  heart  which 
seeks  as  the  source  of  its  highest  joy  the  salvation 
of  your  souls.  You  will  let  me  speak  to  you  in 
view  of  the  truth  which  I  have  been  illustrating. 
Under  this  gospel  you  have  thought,  under  this  gos 
pel  you  have  felt,  under  this  gospel  you  have  pur 
posed — but,  these  convictions  have  been  hushed — 
perhaps  by  direct  resistance,  perhaps  by  evasion, 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  337 

perhaps  by  promises — I  know  not  how — but 
conscience  has  been  stifled.  Thought,  feeling, 
conviction  have  not  led  to  obedience.  And  are 
these,  my  brethren,  circumstances  which  justify 
apathy  and  spiritual  unconcern  ?  If  I  am  right  in 
the  position  I  have  assumed  to-day,  I  know  of  no 
circumstances  of  greater  moral  peril  in  which  a 
man  can  be  placed.  My  beloved  hearers,  whose 
history  tells  of  frequent  seasons  of  the  strivings  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  and  as  frequent  resistances  to 
them,  is  it  not  so  that  you  are  called  to  an  agony  of 
effort  ?  The  scenes  through  which  you  have  passed, 
and  the  position  you  now  occupy,  give  emphasis  to 
the  voice,  and  power  to  the  exhortation  which  calls 
upon  you  to  "  agonize  to  enter  in  at  the  straight 
gate."  It  will  be  a  mighty  conflict  with  a  heart  so 
long  triumphant,  which  shall  issue  in  a  spiritual 
deliverance  ;  but  that  conflict  must  be  joined,  and 
won,  or  all  is  lost.  "  Agonize  while  yet  there  is 
hope ;  while  yet  "  the  Spirit  of  God  worketh  in 
you."  You  may  not  think  it,  but,  believe  me,  there 
is  a  hand  upon  you  which  will  palsy  and  crush  you 
if  its  grasp  be  not  loosened ;  there  is  a  withering 
influence  thrown  over  you  which  will  overcome 
you,  and  sink  you  far  beyond  the  reach  of  hope,  if 
you  struggle  not  with  superhuman  strength,  like 
the  agony  of  man  for  life.  Oh !  "  agonize  to  enter 
in  at  the  straight  gate  ;"  for,  if  ye  are  saved,  there 
is  an  eternal  crown ;  if  ye  fail,  there  are  scorpion 
stings,  and  flames  fanned  by  the  breath  of  the 
Almighty ;  a  heart  of  joy  or  an  undying  worm,  a 
garland  of  glory  or  a  wreath  of  fire  ;  these  aue  the 
22 


338  A    STIFLED    CONSCIENCE. 

issues  pending ;  "  agonize  to  enter  in  at  the  straight 
gate." 

It  is  quite  possible  that  there  may  be  some  who  at 
this  very  moment  may  be  going  through  the  expe 
rience  upon  the  result  of  which  hang  such  mighty 
issues.  I  confess  I  should  be  surprised  if  there 
were  not,  especially  among  my  more  youthful 
hearers,  some  active,  troubled,  and  reproving  con 
sciences  ;  if  there  were  not  some  to  whom  a  "  still, 
small  voice,"  was  whispering,  "  Behold  now  is  the 
accepted  time,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation."  If  there 
is  one  such  in  my  hearing,  I  beseech  him  to  give 
me  his  mind  one  moment.  You  know  not,  my  dear 
friend,  you  cannot  conceive  the  issues  which  may, 
at  this  very  moment,  be  hanging  on  the  movements 
of  your  mind.  There  may  be  more  of  glory  or 
more  of  shame,  more  of  life  or  more  of  death,  more 
of  heaven  or  more  of  hell  than  you  imagine ;  and 
of  one  or  the  other,  according  as  you  act  in  this  crisis 
through  which  you  are  now  passing.  Oh  !  beware  of 
a  stifled  conscience,  beware  of  smothered,  overpow 
ered  convictions.  They  are  so  death-like  in  their 
influence,  so  dirge-like  in  their  sound,  that  they 
seem  to  indicate  the  fatal  grasp  of  the  great  de 
stroyer.  You  will  be  tempted,  and  I  fear  success 
fully,  to  stifle  that  conscience,  and  hush  its  convic 
tions  now,  by  the  hope  that  God  may  awaken  it  to 
more  powerful  action  hereafter.  Oh  !  be  not  de 
ceived  ;  do  not  build  a  hope  of  God's  gracious 
influence  hereafter  upon  your  provoking  him  to 
withdraw  it  altogether.  You  would  not  be  tempted 
to  take  a  viper  to  your  bosom  by  the  hope  that 


A   STIFLED    CONSCIENCE.  339 

God  would  extract  the  sting.  You  would  not  be 
tempted  to  fill  and  mix  and  quaff  the  poison  cup, 
by  the  hope  that  God  might  neutralize  its  hemlock ; 
give  up  such  a  vain  hope,  it  is  one  of  the  deceits  of 
a  sinful  heart.  You  may  hush  that  conscience,  but 
in  doing  so  you  may  sink  it  into  a  sleep  from  which 
nothing  but  the  trumpet  of  judgment  will  awaken 
it.  You  may  drink  of  that  poison  cup  which  a 
deceitful  heart  is  mingling,  but  you  may  drain  the 
very  dregs  of  the  second  death.  You  may  stifle 
that  conscience — Felix  did  it,  and  trembled  no 
more — you  may  do  it,  and  cut  the  last  tie  which 
fastens  you  to  God,  and  sever  the  only  cord  which 
binds  you  to  a  world  of  hope.  Beware !  beware  of 
stifled  convictions,  and  of  seared  and  hardened  con 
sciences.  You  will  act  in  your  circumstances ;  you 
must  act ;  but,  remember,  oh !  remember  the  amazr 
ing  issues.  "To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice, 
harden  not  your  heart." 


RESISTING  THE  SPIRIT. 


"  My  Spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  man." — GENESIS  vi.  3. 

THE  agency  of  God  in  all  his  works,  in  all  places 
of  his  dominion,  is  a  first  principle  of  truth,  which 
on  the  present  occasion,  I  may  consider  as  unques 
tioned.  How  that  agency  is  exerted,  through 
what  channels  that  influence,  which  upholds,  and 
directs,  and  controls  all  things,  and  evolves  all 
results,  is  put  forth,  no  man  may  be  able  positively 
to  determine.  Here  we  may  have  our  theories, 
varying  from,  or  if  you  please,  opposed  to  each 
other,  and  they  are  all  perfectly  harmless,  so  long 
as  they  do  not  shut  out  from  the  view  of  men  the 
fact  itself  of  the  divine  agency  and  control.  This 
much  is  clear  and  certain  :  God's  hand  is  in  every 
thing.  This  physical  system  is  upheld  by  his 
power,  and  moves  at  his  bidding,  and  each  indi 
vidual  part  of  it,  demands  for  itself,  in  order  to  its 
existence  and  motion,  the  po\ver  of  God,  as  truly 
as  does  the  wondrous  whole.  The  moment  it  is 
withdrawn,  each  and  all  sink  and  revert  to  their 
original  nothingness. 

This  characteristic  of  dependence  is  not,  however, 


RESISTING   THE   SPIRIT.  341 

peculiar  to  the  physical  or  inanimate  creation ;  it  as 
truly  pervades  and  marks  with  equal  distinctness 
the  intellectual  and  moral  world.  God's  influence 
runs  through  every  department  of  being,  uphold 
ing  each,  and  controlling  and  regulating  the  move 
ment  of  each  according  to  the  laws  which  he  him 
self  has  given  to  each  respectively.  I  am  as  truly 
dependent  upon  God  for  thought,  as  I  am  for  mus 
cular  action;  and  in  the  exercise  of  my  mental 
powers,  and  in  the  play  of  my  varied  feelings,  ac 
cording  to  the  laws  of  my  own  mind,  God  is  as 
really  engaged  as  in  the  motions  of  the  planets, 
the  revolutions  of  the  earth,  or  the  changes  of  the 
seasons. 

The  moral  or  spiritual  world  has  precisely  the 
same  attribute  of  dependence.  The  nature  of  the 
divine  influence  here,  and  the  mode  of  its  exercise, 
may  be  somewhat  different,  growing  out  of  a  differ 
ence  in  the  constitution  of  the  subjects  upon  which 
it  acts ;  but  the  dependence  here  is  as  real  as  in 
the  other  case.  I  can  no  more  do  without  God,  as 
a  spiritual  being,  than  I  can  do  without  him  as  an 
intellectual  or  merely  animal  being ;  and  I  will  not 
stop  to  quarrel  with  a  man  respecting  his  philoso 
phical  theory  of  dependence,  so  long  as  he  does 
not  on  the  one  hand  deny  its  existence  and  abso 
luteness,  nor  on  the  other  reduce  dependence  to 
fatalism. 

For  every  proper  thought  then,  for  every  holy 
emotion,  for  every  right  purpose  and  action,  we 
need  the  power  of  God.  We  need  it  as  creatures, 
but  oh !  we  need  it  especially  as  sinful  creatures. 


342  RESISTING   THE   SPIRIT. 

Man  wakes  to  righteousness  only  at  the  bidding, 
and  under  the  influence  of  him  who  gives  life  in 
the  spiritual  world  ;  and  holiness  is  sustained  only 
as  the  same  power  which  originated,  nourishes  and 
preserves  it.  If  this  be  so,  and  if  every  Christian 
knows,  however  far  he  may  have  advanced  in  the 
experimental  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,  that, 

"  When  God  withdraws,  his  comforts  die, 
And  all  his  graces  droop  ;" 

surely  if  he  ceases  to  act,  if  his  peculiar  influence 
as  a  renewing  God  be  withheld  from  a  lost  and 
ruined  world,  not  a  single  ray  of  light  will  break 
in  upon  the  darkness  in  which  it  is  shrouded,  nor 
a  single  element  of  life  break  the  deep  repose  of 
spiritual  death  to  which  it  has  been  hushed. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  gospel,  therefore,  as  a 
recovering  system,  is,  that  it  is  a  dispensation  of 
the  spirit  of  God,  and  as  such  it  is  the  only  source 
of  hope  to  apostate  man  ;  and  it  cannot  surely  be 
an  uninteresting  or  an  unprofitable  occupation  for 
ourselves,  to  study  for  a  few  moments  our  position 
and  our  circumstances,  as  subjects  of  this  dispensa 
tion  ;  and  keeping  distinctly  in  view  the  fact  of  an 
absolute  dependence,  to  ponder  some  truths  which 
the  gospel  has  revealed  respecting  the  agency  of 
the  Spirit ;  truths  of  deep  moment  to  us,  and  which 
should  have  a  very  effective  and  decided  influence 
upon  the  movements  of  our  minds  and  the  feelings 
of  our  hearts  in  our  spiritual  relations. 

My  object,  then,  upon  the  present  occasion,  is  to 
lay  before  you  three  distinct  trains  of  thought,  all 


RESISTING    THE   SPIRIT.  343 

leading  to  one  and  the  same  general  result.  The 
first,  relating  to  the  fact  itself,  will  direct  your  at 
tention  to  some  indications  of  the  reality  and  power 
of  the  Spirit's  influence  upon  the  human  mind. 
The  second,  relating  to  the  suspension  of  that  influ 
ence,  will  furnish  the  evidence  of  the  position,  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  does  not  always  strive  with  man ; 
and  the  third,  relating  to  the  condition  of  one  thus 
abandoned,  will  furnish  an  argument  for  careful 
ness  as  to  the  movements  of  our  minds  under  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

I.  There  are  certain  states  of  mind,  belonging,  I 
think  I  may  with  safety  say,  to  all  who  are  placed 
under  the  clear  and  faithful  exhibition  of  "  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  which  shew  them  to  be  the 
subjects  of  an  influence  greatly  different  from  that 
of  their  own  hearts,  or  that  of  the  world  around 
them,  and  even  superior  to  both.  We  do  not  now 
say  hov/  marked  these  states  are,  nor  how  decided 
their  manifestations.  We  merely  state  the  fact, 
that  every  man  is  at  times  conscious  of  peculiar 
conditions  of  thought  and  feeling,  which  he  may 
not  be  able  fully  to  explain  to  himself,  which  are 
not  in  accordance  with  his  prevailing  desires,  and 
are  not  originated  by  any  of  those  objects,  in  view 
of  which  he  naturally  loves  to  act.  Sometimes  his 
state  is  that  of  uneasiness — he  is  dissatisfied  with 
himself.  Not  that  there  is  any  source  of  disquiet 
in  his  outward  relations  and  circumstances,  these 
may  all  be  peaceful.  As  a  mere  creature  of  sense, 
he  may  be  in  possession  of  all  the  elements  of  en- 


844  KESISTENG    THE    SPIEIT. 

joyment,  and  yet,  surrounded  by  the  means  of 
gratification,  he  is  disturbed  and  restless. 

These  experiences,  it  must  be  remembered,  are 
inseparable  from  the  influence  of  the  truth  of  God 
upon  the  mind.  They  exist,  as  their  subject  is 
brought  to  think  upon  the  statements  of  the  word 
of  God.  If  he  can  banish  the  truth  from  his 
thoughts,  his  painful  emotions  often  cease ;  but  un 
der  its  light  and  power  he  is  unhappy,  and  his  un 
easiness,  in  its  degree,  is  generally  proportioned  to 
the  clearness  of  the  truths'  manifestations,  and  the 
power  of  the  appeals  which  they  make  to  his  con 
science.  There  are  circumstances,  moreover,  in 
which  the  light  of  the  gospel  shines  very  strongly 
in  upon  the  mind.  "The  power  of  the  world  to 
come"  takes  hold  upon  the  spirit,  and  while  he  is 
conscious  of  contrariety  to  the  being  who  controls 
him,  he  cannot  but  be  fearful  of  the  retributions 
which  await  him.  Spiritual  things  have  an  air  of 
reality,  and  as  he  feels  that  he  is  not  what  he 
should  be,  he  dreads  to  think  of  what  he  may  be  ; 
in  short,  he  is  now  awakened  to  a  perception  of 
his  condition,  and  to  a  sense  of  his  danger  as  a 
sinner. 

Connected  with  this  state  of  mind,  as  either  ac 
companying  or  succeeding,  though  essentially  dis 
tinct  in  its  character,  is  another,  often  belonging  to 
man  in  the  same,  or  very  similar  circumstances. 
It  is  a  state  marked  not  simply  by  a  perception  of 
danger,  but  also  by  a  conviction  of  guilt.  In  ordi 
nary  circumstances,  when  the  moral  judgment  is 
but  partially  enlightened,  man  can  without  much 


RESISTING    THE   SPIRIT.  345 

compunction,  take  an  attitude  of  opposition  to 
every  thing  like  spiritual  religion.  He  can  either 
very  ingeniously  evade  all  the  requirements  of  the 
gospel,  or  he  can  work  out  a  very  elaborate  justifi 
cation  of  himself  in  his  neglect  of  them  ;  and  it  is 
truly  admirable  to  observe  what  sagacity  the  hu 
man  mind  can  display  in  reasoning  against  the  com 
mandments  of  heaven,  and  in  what  a  close  web  of 
skilful  sophistry  it  can  entangle  itself,  in  its  endea 
vour  to  get  rid  of  the  righteousness  of  heavenly 
claims.  But  now,  he  can  do  so  no  longer;  the 
conviction  of  his  guilt  is  too  clear  to  be  resisted, 
and  under  the  combined  influence  of  his  apprehen 
sion  of  danger  and  sense  of  sinfulness,  he  feels  the 
necessity  of  doing  something  which  shall  change  at 
once  his  character  and  his  state. 

These  are  mental  experiences,  by  no  means  un 
common  under  the  faithful  preaching  of  the  gospel. 
How  are  we  to  explain  them  ?  To  what  cause,  or 
causes,  shall  we  attribute  them  ?  You  will  not 
surely  account  for  them  by  supposing  them  to  be 
the  results  of  any  independent  movement  of  the 
human  spirit !  "  Dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,'1  man 
does  not  of  himself  awaken  to  a  sense  of  his  spirit 
ual  danger.  The  human  heart  does  not  sponta 
neously  come  to  the  light,  that  its  mysteries  may 
be  revealed.  Left  entirely  to  the  workings  of  his 
own  mind,  under  the  influence  of  the  purely  sensi 
ble  objects  by  which  he  is  surrounded,  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  man  will  ever  think  of  any 
other  than  his  merely  sensible  relations,  or  ever 
dream  of  his  sin  and  danger  as  a  subject  of  the 


346  RESISTING   THE   SPIEIT. 

spiritual  government  of  God.  There  is  such  a  thing, 
we  admit,  as  natural  conscience,  and  it  has  indeed 
a  wondrous  power  to  overwhelm  with  its  rebukes 
and  distract  with  its  terrors — but  then  it  must  be 
roused  by  an  influence  independent  of  itself — for 
sin  stupefies  the  conscience  as  well  as  blinds  the 
vision.  The  human  mind  acts,  as  it  is  acted  upon, 
and  experience,  as  it  illustrates  this  great  character 
istic  of  our  mental  nature,  testifies  that  all  mental, 
and  of  course  all  moral  changes,  are  secured  by 
outward  influences.  When  the  Son  of  God  was 
about  to  leave  this  world,  having  finished  the  work 
which  the  Father  had  given  him  to  do,  he  left  be 
hind  him  this  promise,  "  I  will  send  the  Comforter, 
who  shall  convince  the  world  of  sin,  and  righteous 
ness,  and  judgment ;"  and  in  this  promise  we  have 
the  explanation  of  these  mental  phenomena,  which 
are  themselves  the  evidences  that  the  promise  has 
been  fulfilled. 

Have  we  not,  then,  the  proofs  of  the  power  and 
reality  of  the  Spirit's  influences  among  ourselves  ? 
If  the  word  of  God  is  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  is  not 
that  Spirit  present  in  his  sanctuary,  where  that 
word  is  illustrated  in  its  principles  and  enforced  in 
its  claims?  What  means  that  almost  breathless 
stillness  which  sometimes  pervades  the  house  of 
God,  when  the  simplicities  of  the  gospel  are  exhi 
bited  ?  What  does  the  mind  made  thoughtful  in 
dicate,  but  the  presence  and  agency  of  him  who 
with  "  a  still  small  voice,"  does  "  stop  the  sinner's 
way  ;"  of  what  are  all  our  awakened  anxieties  the 
fruits,  if  not  of  his  influence,  whose  province  it  is 


EESISTING   THE   SPIEIT.  347 

"  to  convince  the  world  of  sin."  And  what  mean 
those  oft-formed  resolutions,  to  which  kindled  fears 
give  birth,  and  what  those  oft-repeated  vows, 
originating  in  intelligent  conviction,  if  they  are  not 
the  evidence  of  some  mighty  though  mysterious 
agency  at  work  upon  the  mind  ?  Lo !  we  carry 
within  us  the  proofs  of  the  position  that  the  Spirit 
of  God  strives  with  man.  Truth,  a  thousand 
times  heard  before  without  awakening  emotion, 
now  rousing  us  to  thought ;  claims  a  thousand 
times  before  presented,  and  at  best  but  listlessly 
received,  now  securing  a  prompt  and  intelligent 
response  from  conscience ;  feeling,  quick,  deep,  per 
manent,  perhaps  excited  under  the  demonstrations 
of  the  gospel ;  these  as  facts  denning  our  own  cir 
cumstances,  and  testified  to  by  our  own  conscious 
ness,  are  the  evidences  of  our  subjection  to  the  in 
fluences  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

II.  Now,  we  cannot  tell  beforehand,  in  reference 
to  any  given  case,  what  are  to  be  the  results  of 
these  spiritual  movements  upon  the  human  mind. 
We  know  what  their  tendency  is  in  themselves 
considered.  The  gospel  is  a  recovering  system. 
Christ  came  "  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost,"  and 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  the  agent  for  carrying  out  the 
great  moral  purposes  of  the  Gospel;  though  his 
influences  do  not  always  lead  to  such  an  issue. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  the  operations  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  are  to  the  mind  of  man  invested  with  amazing 
interest.  They  stand  connected  with  the  best  wel 
fare,  and  the  highest  hopes  of  his  immortal  spirit ; 
they  furnish  the  only  ground  for  the  expectation 


348  EESISTING   THE   SPIKIT. 

that  lie  may  be  born  again ;  they  are  the  only  secu 
rity  he  has  against  perdition.  Let  them  but  cease, 
and  the  question  of  his  spiritual  destiny  is  decided. 
Let  it  be  certain  that  over  that  mind  the  Holy 
Ghost  will  never  again  move,  that  he  will  never 
again  touch  that  conscience,  or  influence  that  heart, 
and  the  eternal  enslavement  of  that  soul  is  sure,  as 
it  is  placed  forever  beyond  the  reach  of  any  power 
which  can  break  its  chains,  and  it  must  sink  under 
their  weight  into  the  darkness  of  an  everlasting 
night. 

And  are  we  not  taught  by  the  very  words  of 
our  text  the  possibility  of  such  a  condition  ?  Do 
we  need  any  plainer  indication  than  is  here  given 
us  of  the  reality  of  spiritual  abandonment  ?  Has 
not  the  history  of  our  world  furnished  its  comments 
and  its  proofs  ?  What  have  become  of  the  con 
victions  which  belonged  to  those  who  have  shewn 
themselves  strangers  to  the  hopes  of  the  gospel  ? 
How  many  have  apprehended  the  terrors  of  the 
world  to  come,  trembled  in  the  retrospect  of  the  past, 
and  the  prospect  of  the  future  ?  Under  the  influence 
of  an  awakened  conscience  and  solemn  premonitions, 
have  thought,  have  resolved  and  promised,  and  yet 
have  either  entered  upon  the  experience  they  so 
much  dreaded,  or  else  live  only  to  manifest  an 
entire  unconcern  about  spiritual  things,  and  to  pre 
sent  to  the  realities  and  claims  of  the  truth  an 
indurated  heart  and  a  callous  conscience.  We  have 
read  of  an  Esau,  who  shed  the  tears  of  a  bitter  but 
unavailing  repentance ;  of  an  Ahab,  who  humbled 
himself  in  view  of  threatened  judgments ;  of  a  Saul , 


RESISTING   THE   SPIRIT.  349 

from  whom  God  departed  ;  of  a  Judas,  who  rushed 
upon  the  very  ruin  which  gave  to  his  conscience  its 
tormenting  and  appalling  power ;  of  a  Felix,  who 
trembled  on  his  judgment  seat ;  and  an  Agrippa, 
who  was  "almost  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian." 
These  are  gleanings  from  amid  the  memorials  of 
the  past,  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  demonstra 
tions  of  the  present.  We  point  you  to  the  man  who 
has  been  laid  upon  a  bed  of  sickness,  and  whose 
mental  exercises,  in  his  hour  of  solemn  thought- 
fulness,  told  of  the  workings  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 
We  point  to  the  man  once  alarmed  by  some  start 
ling  dispensation  of  Providence,  or  awakened  by 
the  faithful  preaching  of  the  word  in  the  sanctuary, 
whose  emotions,  and  the  language  which  expressed 
them,  revealed  the  agency  of  some  mysterious 
power ;  and  then  I  turn  over  another  page  of  their 
history,  and  there  stands  that  once  troubled  sinner, 
brought  back  from  the  gates  of  the  grave,  and 
there  is  a  smile  of  skepticism,  or  indifference 
upon  his  countenance  as  he  is  spoken  to  of  "  the 
powers  of  the  world  to  come  ;"  and  yonder  moves 
that  once  thoughtful  and  inquiring  one,  and  he  re 
ceives  with  an  air  of  the  greatest  unconcern  every 
appeal  upon  the  importance  of  spiritual  and  eternal 
things;  and  here  is  the  subject  of  providential 
discipline,  from  whose  spirit  the  impressions  once 
made  upon  it  are  entirely  gone,  shewing  not  a  trace 
of  the  influence  of  the  trials  under  which  his  heart 
once  bled  profusely.  And  these  are  the  proofs 
which  every  day  and  every  hour  are  heaving  into 
being,  of  the  truth  that  the  Spirit  of  God  does  not 


350  EESISTLNG    THE   SPIEIT. 

always  strive  with  man.  I  can  appeal  then,  for  my 
arguments  upon  this  point,  my  careless  hearer,  to 
you.  Subject  of  stifled  convictions  !  Child  of  tears 
and  prayers,  and  entreaties  and  warnings,  you 
whose  conscience  has  ere  now  been  wakened  to 
action,  and  whose  feelings  have  been  excited  in 
view  of  truth,  over  whom  a  mother's  heart  has 
yearned  while  she  wrestled  with  her  covenant 
God,  and  to  whom  a  father's  tenderest  anxieties 
have  been  given  as  he  has  laid  hold  on  your  behalf 
of  the  heavenly  promise — you  who  have  wept  at  the 
bedside  of  sickness,  or  formed  the  purpose  of  re 
pentance  at  the  grave  of  a  departed  friend  ;  while 
your  past  experience  is  my  proof  of  the  reality  of 
the  Spirit's  influence,  your  present  apathy  shall  be 
my  demonstration  of  its  suspension. 

Considering  this  point  as  established,  allow  me 
to  turn  your  attention  to  some  of  its  connections, 
that  my  doctrine  may  be  made  to  subserve  the 
great  practical  purpose  it  contemplates. 

The  position,  then,  which  I  here  assume,  is  that 
such  a  dispensation  upon  the  part  of  God,  as  the 
withdrawal  from  a  man  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  is  never 
the  result  of  a  dark  and  mysterious  sovereignty. 
Most  men  are  very  prone  to  resolve  every  thing 
into  sovereignty,  and  they  mean  by  it  only  caprice, 
arbitrary  action,  without  any  reason.  There  is, 
however,  no  such  sovereignty  taught  in  the  Bible, 
and  it  is  incompatible  with  a  wise,  and  intelligent, 
and  upright  administration.  God  is  a  sovereign, 
but  he  has  the  very  best  possible  reason  for  every 
thing  he  does,  though  he  has  not  made  known  to 


KESISTING   THE   SPIRIT.  351 

us  the  reasons  of  all  liis  doings,  and  probably  our 
minds  are  not  large  enough  to  comprehend  them, 
should  they  all  be  revealed.  But  then  sovereignty 
is  an  attribute  of  grace.  God  may  bestow  favours 
upon  a  being  in  the  exercise  of  sovereignty,  that  is, 
for  reasons  wholly  irrespective  of  the  character  of 
the  being  himself.  Thus  the  salvation  of  every 
sinner  is  an  act  of  sovereignty ;  but  the  infliction  of 
evil  falls  within  the  province  of  justice,  and  its 
reasons  are  always  taken  from  the  character  and 
doings  of  its  subject.  Hence,  when  you  read  in 
the  Bible  of  the  suspension  or  withdrawal  of 
divine  influences  from  a  man,  you  always  find  it 
represented  in  connection  with  some  previous 
wrong  conduct  on  his  part,  and  as  a  punishment 
of  that  conduct.  Spiritual  abandonment  is  the 
judicial  result  of  spiritual  resistance.  The  Spirit 
of  God  ceases  to  strive  because  he  is  driven  from 
the  human  bosom. 

We  have  already  adverted  to  certain  states  of 
feeling,  certain  conditions  of  thought,  of  which  man 
is  the  subject  under  the  preaching  of  the  gospel, 
and  we  have  traced  them  to  their  source  in  spiritual 
influences,  and  exhibited  their  general  moral  ten 
dency  to  draw  us  away  from  sin  to  holiness,  from 
the  world  to  God.  These  influences  are,  in  the 
results  they  contemplate,  opposite  to  the  natural 
bias  of  the  heart.  Hence,  when  a  man  becomes 
their  subject,  there  is  a  counter  movement  often 
times  of  the  human  mind ;  there  is  a  sudden  and 
distinct  recoil  from  the  impressive  power  which 
comes  upon  the  soul.  There  is  generally  an  effort 


352  RESISTING   THE    SPIRIT. 

to  throw  in  something  between  the  mind  and  the 
realities  which  affect  it,  and  in  all  this  there  is 
resistance  to  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  forms  in  which 
this  resistance  is  seen,  are  varied  by  the  manner  in 
which  truth  approaches  a  man,  by  the  character 
and  force  of  its  appeal,  by  his  own  natural  tem 
perament,  and  by  the  outward  circumstances  and 
associations  in  which  he  may  be  thrown.  Some 
times  it  is  shown  in  an  effort  as  determined  as  it  is 
direct,  to  get  rid  of  his  convictions.  He  will  pre 
occupy  his  mind  with  other  subjects,  or  with  views 
of  the  truth  different  from  those  which  impress 
him.  Sometimes  he  will  break  up  entirely  his  asso 
ciations,  in  which  he  comes  under  these  troublous 
influences,  or  he  will  put  himself  in  a  position 
where  he  thinks  the  arrows  of  the  truth  can  never 
reach  him,  by  vacating  his  seat  in  the  house  of 
God,  or  forming  his  Sabbath  associations  where  he 
thinks  the  truth  will  be  less  clear  in  its  light,  less 
pointed  in  its  application,  or  less  urgent  in  its  en 
forcements.  His  design  is  apparent.  It  is  to  give 
the  mind  an  opportunity  to  recover  itself  from  the 
shock  it  has  received  from  the  demonstration  of  the 
gospel,  or  to  secure  a  counteracting  movement 
which  shall  neutralize  its  power.  There  is  a  won 
derful  sympathy  between  our  outward  aspect  and 
our  inward  feelings.  We  all  know  how  very  ea 
sily  and  quickly  we  can  secure  any  particular  emo 
tion,  simply  by  assuming  its  corresponding  outward 
expression.  A  forced  smile  will  not  infrequently 
wake  up  a  momentary  gladness  in  the  heart,  and  a 
tear  started,  we  know  not  how,  and  dropped,  we 


RESISTING   THE   SPIEIT.  353 

know  not  why,  will  sadden  the  spirit,  and  a  scorn 
ful  look  will  at  once  excite  something  like  contempt 
for  the  person  to  whom  it  is  directed.  Hence,  it 
is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  thing  for  a  man, 
whose  conscience  has  been  affected  in  the  house  of 
God,  to  assume  an  air  of  entire  indifference,  not 
simply  for  the  purpose  of  screening  from  others  the 
workings  of  his  bosom,  but  also  of  securing  in  him 
self  that  very  feeling  of  unconcern  of  which  he  has 
assumed  the  outward  expression.  And  I  surely 
need  not  tell  you,  that  here  is  a  clear  evidence  of 
a  strife  between  the  mind  and  the  Holy  Ghost. 
There  is  a  direct  and  intelligent  resistance  to  his 
influences,  the  result  of  which  is  to  banish  him  from 
the  soul. 

Such  a  method,  however,  may  not  be  successful. 
There  are  circumstances  in  which  it  must  prove 
itself  a  failure  ;  circumstances  where  no  direct  op 
position  will  be  of  any  avail.  The  gospel  in  its 
influence  over  the  mind,  is  at  times  not  unlike  some 
other  attractions,  powerful  in  proportion  as  they 
are  painful,  when  a  man  cannot  pass  beyond 
the  bounds  of  that  charmed  circle  which  the  truth 
has  drawn  around  him.  If  he  cannot  by  any 
direct  effort  rid  himself  of  the  impressions  which 
the  gospel  has  made  upon  him,  if  its  claims  so  dis 
turbing  to  his  conscience  follow  him  wherever  he 
goes,  and  present  themselves  to  his  mind  in  what 
ever  direction  he  turns,  then  he  will  endeavour  to 
gain  by  evasion  what  he  cannot  effect  by  any  direct 
resistance.  He  will  not  meet  manfully  the  claims 
of  repentance,  and  throw  them  entirely  away  from 
23 


354  EESISTING   THE   SPIKIT. 

him.  He  will  not  say  intelligently  and  determin 
edly  of  the  Son  of  God,  "  I  will  not  have  this  man 
to  reign  over  me,"  but  he  will  do  it  indirectly. 
Conscience  cannot  be  forced  into  quietness,  but  it 
may  be  hushed  into  stillness  by  stratagem.  Hence 
originate  those  false  trains  of  reasoning  so  common 
in  the  world,  those  sophistries  by  which  the  human 
mind  is  carried,  to  its  own  undoing.  It  is  a  re 
markable  fact,  my  brethren,  that  men  never  reason 
so  much  upon  the  subject  of  religion,  and  popular 
errors,  and  false  and  delusive  pleas  never  spring 
up  with  such  mushroom  growth,  as  when  the  Spirit 
of  grace  accompanies  to  the  mind  the  clear  and 
powerful  enforcements  of  gospel  claims.  Men  do 
not  argue  from  their  peculiar  circumstances  against 
holy  devotedness,  except  as  they  feel  the  pressure 
of  its  obligations.  They  do  not  fly  to  the  doctrine 
of  sovereignty,  or  take  shelter  behind  that  of 
divine  decrees,  except  as  they  are  driven  there  by 
some  influences  which  they  cannot  directly  resist, 
and  to  which  they  are  unwilling  to  yield.  And 
whenever  you  find  a  man  endeavouring  to  reason 
down  the  claims  of  God — whenever  you  hear  him 
using  such  arguments  as  these:  "I  would  be  a 
Christian  if  I  could" — "  I  must  wait  God's  time  for 
my  conversion" — *"  If  I  am  to  be  saved  I  shall  be 
saved,  do  what  I  may ;  and  if  I  am  to  be  lost  I  shall 
be  lost,  do  what  I  can" — you  may  set  it  down  as  a 
settled  point  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  striving  with 
him.  And  in  these  false  movements  and  ingenious 
pleas,  he  is  only  retreating  to,  or  falling  back  upon 
what  he  deems  a  secure  position,  where  he  may 


KESISTING   THE    SPIEIT.  355 

successfully  resist  the  mighty  demonstrations  of  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

There  is  yet  another  form  in  which  opposition  to 
spiritual  influences  manifests  itself,  more  common  I 
imagine,  and  more  effective,  than  either  of  those 
which  have  been  mentioned.  There  are  circum 
stances  in  which  the  light  of  conscience  is  too 
strong  to  be  in  this  manner  extinguished.  What 
ever  the  human  heart,  or  a  sinful  world  may  say, 
many  a  man  has  reached  this  conviction,  clear  and 
decided,  "I  must  repent  or  perish,  there  is  no 
other  alternative ;  I  must  be  interested  in  Je 
sus  Christ,  or  be  lost ;"  but  then  he  feels  that  the 
question  before  him  is  not  one  which  demands  an 
immediate  answer.  A  dying  hour  is  not  so  close 
at  hand,  a  judgment  bar  is  not  so  near,  the  realities 
of  eternity  are  not  so  pressing  as  to  force  me  to  a 
prompt  decision.  "To-morrow  shall  be  as  this 
day" — "  I  will  hear  thee  again  on  this  matter" — 
"  When  I  have  a  convenient  season  I  will  send  for 
thee."  Thus  runs  that  siren  song,  which  has 
hushed  more  souls  to  the  sleep  of  death  than  all 
other  influences  combined,  soothed  more  troubled 
consciences,  driven  the  Spirit  of  God  from  more 
souls,  and  added  the  largest  number  to  the  fright 
ful  catalogue  of  the  lost.  For  when  the  Holy 
Ghost  saith,  "  To-day  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice," 
while  he  lends  enforcement  to  the  message,  "  Now 
is  the  accepted  time,"  can  there  be  a  more  certain, 
though  covert  resistance  to  his  influences,  than  to 
promise  for  the  future  what  he  urges  as  a  present 
duty  ?  A  man  had  much  better  intelligently  and 


356  RESISTING    THE   SPIKIT. 

openly  throw  from  him  the  claims  of  Jesus  ChristT 
than  thus  tamper  with  and  gain  the  mastery  of 
conscience,  because  in  doing  so,  he  is  but  yielding 
to  the  arguments  and  throwing  himself  under  the 
power  of  what  has  not  inaptly  been  called  "  the 
thief  of  time"  and  "  the  murderer  of  souls." 

It  is  impossible  to  follow  these  illustrations  far 
ther,  and  I  must  content  myself,  therefore,  with  a 
statement  of  the  general  principle.  The  Spirit  of 
God  is  the  agent  of  conviction  and  conversion. 
Any  movement  of  the  mind,  therefore,  which  does 
not  accord  with  his  design,  any  restlessness  under  or 
dissatisfaction  with  the  truth  and  providences  of 
God,  which  are  the  instruments  of  his  agency ;  any 
reasoning  which  tends  to  weaken  a  sense  of  per 
sonal  obligation ;  any  apology  for  sin,  any  promise 
for  the  future,  no  matter  how  sincere,  honest,  and 
well  meant  it  may  be  at  the  time  of  its  utterance, 
puts  a  man  in  a  position  in  which  he  resists  the 
influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  drives  him  from 
the  soul. 

The  question  has  often  been  asked,  how  long 
may  such  a  process  be  carried  on  in  the  mind  with 
out  reaching  the  catastrophe  of  a  final  abandon 
ment  ?  In  other  words,  what  are  the  limits  of  a 
man's  day  of  grace  ?  To  this  question  the  answer 
must  be,  we  cannot  tell.  You  might  as  well  pro 
pose  the  analogous  question,  how  long  may  a  man 
live  in  this  world  ?  We  cannot  tell.  It  does  not 
belong  to  us  to  fix,  or  to  point  out  the  limits  of 
human  life.  Who  but  the  Sovereign  disposer  of 
all  things  can  say  with  certainty  when  death  shall 


RESISTING    THE    SPIRIT.  357 

meet  a  man  ?  But  yet,  we  know  what  God  has 
said,  "  Bloody  and  deceitful  men  shall  not  live  out 
half  their  days."  We  know,  moreover,  from  the 
laws  of  our  animal  economy,  and  from  experience 
and  observation,  that  there  are  some  habits  and 
courses  of  life  which  lead  to  its  termination  more 
rapidly  than  habits  and  courses  of  an  opposite 
character.  And,  therefore,  analogy  may,  perhaps, 
throw  some  light  upon  this  question.  We  cannot 
tell  how  long  the  Spirit  of  God  will  strive  with  a 
man ;  we  cannot,  we  dare  not  set  the  limits  of  God's 
forbearance,  but  then  if  we  throw  aside  speculation 
and  take  a  practical  view  of  the  subject,  we  know 
that  there  are  some  states  of  mind  which  induce 
far  more  rapidly  than  others  a  condition  of  con 
firmed  impenitence  and  undisturbed  spiritual  death. 
If  the  Spirit  of  God  always  departs  from  a  man  in 
judgment  because  of  resistance  to  his  influences ; 
then  it  would  seem  that  his  strivings  would  be 
regulated  in  their  duration  not  so  much  by  the 
time  as  by  the  degree  of  their  resistance ;  and  this 
must  be  determined  from  the  amount  of  influence 
exerted  upon  him.  Such  a  principle  draws  deep, 
and  tells  with  mighty  effect  wherever  it  applies. 
The  more  hopeful  a  man's  circumstances  are  in  view 
of  his  opportunities,  and  the  spiritual  influences  of 
which  he  is  the  subject,  the  more  perilous  is  his 
resistance.  The  man  of  few  privileges,  whose  mind 
has  seldom  been  called  into  action  by  the  truth  of 
God,  occupies  a  very  different  moral  position  from 
the  child  of  prayers  and  tears  and  counsels — a  very 
different  position  from  the  man  who  has  lived  long 


358  EESISTING   THE    SPIEIT. 

under  the  full  blaze  of  gospel  truth,  whose  spiritual 
experience  has  been  that  of  alternate  anxieties  and 
insensibility,  of  painful  convictions  and  successful 
strifes  with  conscience.  Tell  me  what  a  man's  past 
spiritual  history  has  been;  paint  me  the  scenes 
amid  which  he  has  moved,  describe  the  influences 
to  which  he  has  been  subject,  and  shew  me  what 
has  been  his  action  under  them,  and  I  will  shew 
you  how  you  may  rationally  calculate  his  hopes  for 
the  future,  and  determine  how  near  he  is  to  the 
crisis  of  his  spiritual  being.  If  we  may  draw  an 
inference  from  God's  recorded  dispensations  towards 
men  of  old ;  then,  when  we  read,  "  they  vexed  and 
rebelled  against  his  Holy  Spirit,  therefore,  he 
turned  to  be  their  enemy  and  fought  against  them," 
surely,  we  are  right  in  saying,  that  often  stifled 
convictions,  and  long  continued  resistances  to  the 
truth,  if  they  are  not  the  attributes  of  the  repro 
bate,  are  fearfully  ominous  of  a  fatal  and  speedy 
catastrophe. 

III.  And  now,  my  brethren,  we  do  not  pretend 
— language  would  fail  us  in  the  effort — to  pourtray 
the  condition  of  a  man  who  has  reached  this  mel 
ancholy  crisis,  and  has  been  abandoned  of  God. 
The  scriptures  have  given  us  upon  this  subject  but 
a  few  hints,  yet  those  are  hints  of  unutterable 
painfulness.  They  talk  of  being  left  to  the  desires 
of  one's  own  mind,  and  the  devices  of  one's  own 
heart.  They  speak  of  there  being  "  no  more  sac 
rifice  for  sin,  but  a  fearful  looking  for  of  judg 
ment  ;"  of  being  given  up  to  "  delusion,  so  as  to 
believe  a  lie."  The  sinner  forsaken  of  God,  has  his 


EESISTING   THE   SPIRIT.  359 

doom  forever  sealed ;  for  him  hope  has  been  blot 
ted  out ;  and  he  has  inscribed  his  own  name  upon 
the  catalogue  of  the  lost.  He  may  live  in  the 
world,  but  only  to  harden  himself  the  more ;  and 
under  the  withering  influence  of  heaven's  judg 
ments,  to  develop  a  character,  which,  in  view  of  the 
whole  universe,  will  fully  justify  the  dread  chastise 
ment  which  shall  certainly  be  measured  out  to 
him.  He  may  hear  the  gospel,  and  at  times  there 
may  be  something  like  a  momentary  start  from  his 
deep  slumbers ;  but  it  is  only  the  spasmodic  action 
of  conscience  after  the  death  blow  has  been  in 
flicted,  or  the  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment. 
Thus  he  moves  through  the  world,  becoming  daily 
more  callous  to  the  impression  of  spiritual  good, 
till  in  an  hour  when  his  security  is  most  profound, 
with  his  heart  more  than  ever  wedded  to  the 
world,  he  bursts  with  all  his  unpreparedness  upon 
an  eternal  scene,  and  his  doomed  spirit  falls  into 
the  hands  of  the  living  God.  The  bare  thought  is 
one  of  agony.  It  is  almost  enough  to  break  one's 
heart,  and  make  him  shed  tears  of  blood,  to  think 
of  a  human  being  gone  so  far  that  a  God  of  for 
bearance  must  forsake  him,  beyond  the  reach  of 
heavenly  compassion,  standing  upon  the  verge  of 
the  world  before  him,  his  heart-strings  about  to 
snap  under  the  sorrows  which  are  coming,  and  his 
voice  nearly  strung  and  pitched  to  his  eternal 
death-wail.  Oh  !  that  there  never  had  been  the 
original  of  such  a  picture !  Oh !  that  there  was 
no  danger  of  any  one  reaching  such  a  painful  catas 
trophe. 


360  EESISTING   THE   SPIKIT. 

But  I  read,  "  My  Spirit  shall  not  always  strive 
with  man ;"  and  when  I  read,  I  turn  with  peculiar 
emotions  to  those  who  are  out  of  Christ.  I  speak 
to  the  subjects  of  the  Spirit's  influence.  Are  there 
none  within  my  hearing  ?  Has  the  Spirit  of  God 
moved  over  none  of  these  minds  ?  Have  there  not 
been  under  the  demonstrations  of  the  gospel  feel 
ings  which  none  but  the  Spirit  of  God  could  excite, 
anxieties  which  none  but  the  Spirit  of  God  could 
kindle,  and  purposes  which  none  but  the  Spirit  of 
God  could  lead  you  to  form?  Ah!  when  you 
were  forced  to  think  upon  your  ways,  there  was 
the  Spirit  of  God.  When  you  were  checked  by 
some  startling  providence,  there  was  the  Spirit  of 
God.  When  under  the  convincing  arguments  and 
forceful  appeals  of  the  truth,  you  were  "almost 
persuaded"  to  be  a  Christian,  the  Spirit  of  God 
was  there.  When  you  left  the  sanctuary,  and 
turned  your  back  upon  the  emblems  of  a  Saviour's 
body  and  blood  which  invited  you  to  peace,  the 
Spirit  of  God  was  there.  Am  I  mistaken,  or 
have  none  ever  resisted  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  Am  I 
mistaken,  or  have  there  been  no  inward  struggles 
to  drive  away  from  the  mind  religious  impressions  ? 
Have  there  been  no  apologies  and  excuses  in  an 
swer  to  the  claims  of  spiritual  religion  ?  No  pro 
mises  and  purposes  numerous  as  the  Sabbath's 
arguments,  and  frequent  as  the  Sabbath's  appeal  ? 
No,  I  am  not  mistaken ;  there  have  been  and  there 
are  many  and  mighty  strivings  against  the  Spirit 
of  God.  It  is  a  spectacle  over  which  an  angel 
might  weep,  if  there  could  be  tears  in  heaven, — 


EESISTING   THE   SPIRIT.  361 

man,  feeble  man,  child  of  the  dust,  and  crushed 
before  the  moth,  strives  with  Almighty  God. 
Who  has  not  done  it  ?  how  many  are  doing  it  yet  ? 
And  while  man  does  it  in  his  thoughtlessness,  he 
hears  not,  or  if  he  hears,  he  heeds  not,  the  sound 
which  comes  from  the  distance  and  falls  upon  the 
ear  in  tones  so  solemn  and  distinct,  and  with  a 
cadence  so  dreadful,  "  My  Spirit  shall  not  always 
strive  with  man."  He  heeds  it  not,  but  goes  on 
his  way  resisting  the  Holy  Ghost.  Thus  he  has 
tens  on  to  a  condition  of  hopelessness  and  helpless 
ness.  Quick  as  the  mind  can  act,  he  speeds  him 
onward.  Every  stifled  conviction  accelerates  his 
movements.  Every  Sabbath's  light  but  lights  him 
forward.  Every  message  of  the  truth,  every  argu 
ment  and  appeal  of  the  sanctuary  which  falls  upon 
his  ear,  and  reaches  his  spirit,  serve  but  to  quicken 
his  progress.  Ere  long  the  crisis  comes.  In  an 
unlocked  for  moment  the  grieved  and  insulted 
Spirit  spreads  his  wings  for  a  final  flight,  and  as  he 
goes,  he  leaves  upon  the  soul  a  seal  which  neither 
earth,  nor  heaven,  nor  hell,  can  break.  The  die 
is  then  cast,  the  work  is  done,  the  decision  is  re 
corded.  "  Let  him  alone,"  is  the  sentence  which 
has  gone  forth,  and  the  man  is  lost.  Thencefor 
ward  his  career  is  one  of  growing  sinfulness. 
Thenceforward  his  state  is  one  of  spiritual  sleep, 
profound  as  that  of  the  grave,  undisturbed  by  any 
Sabbath  argument,  unbroken  by  any  threatening 
omen,  unaffected  by  the  approaching  realities  of 
another  world ;  and  though  he  may  live  amid 
scenes  of  spiritual  beauty,  and  though  the  refresh- 


362  EESISTING   THE   SPIRIT. 

ing  showers  of  heavenly  grace  may  brighten  and 
give  new  verdure  to  the  moral  landscape  around 
him — there  he  is — a  spot  blasted  by  heaven's  fire, 
which  can  never  be  cultivated,  a  tree  scathed  by 
heaven's  lightning,  ready  to  be  cut  down  as  fuel 
for  the  burning.  I  may  seem  to  you  to  speak 
strongly,  but  oh !  how  lame  and  feeble  are  my 
words  to  give  expression  to  the  sentiment  which 
God  has  uttered,  "  Woe  unto  them  when  I  depart 
from  them." 

Subject  of  the  Spirit's  influences — my  dying  un 
converted  fellow-sinner — have  you  a  troubled  con 
science,  a  thoughtful  mind,  an  anxious  soul  ?  The 
Holy  Ghost  is  with  you  now — he  is  moving  upon 
that  heart — you  have  within  you,  and  around  you 
the  evidences  of  his  presence  and  power.  "Now 
is"  your  "  accepted  time,  now  is  your  day  of  salva 
tion."  "  To-day,"  as  the  Holy  Ghost  saith,  "if  you 
will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  heart." 

"  Quench  not  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord, 

The  Holy  One  from  heaven, 
The  Comforter,  beloved,  adored, 
To  man  in  mercy  given. 

"  Quench  not  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord, 

He  will  not  always  strive  ; 
0,  tremble  at  that  awful  word  ! 
Sinner,  awake  and  live  ! 

"  Quench  not  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord, 

It  is  thy  only  hope ; 
0,  let  his  aid  be  now  implored, 
Let  prayer  be  lifted  up." 


THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


"  "Wherefore  I  say  unto  you,  all  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall 
be  forgiven  unto  men  ;  but  the  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost  shall 
not  be  forgiven  unto  men.  And  whosoever  speaketh  a  word  against 
the  Son  of  man,  it  shall  be  forgiven  him,  but  whosoever  speaketh 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  shall  not  be  forgiven  him,  neither  in  this 
world,  neither  in  the  world  to  come." — MATTHEW  xii.  31,  32. 

IT  is  needless  for  me  to  say,  niy  brethren,  that 
the  Son  of  God  never  would  have  uttered  the 
words  of  my  text,  nor  would  the  inspired  evangel 
ist  have  put  them  upon  this  permanent  record,  did 
they  not  contain  truth  of  deepest  interest  to  ourselves, 
and  suggest  lessons  for  our  profitable  study.  For 
one  I  cannot  sympathize  with  those  who  imagine 
that  God  has  purposely  thrown  a  veil  of  mystery 
over  the  sin  of  which  our  Saviour  speaks,  that  men 
ignorant  of  its  precise  nature  might  be  careful  in 
reference  to  spiritual  influences,  and  so  be  kept 
from  an  approximation  to  its  guilt.  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  believe,  that  God  has  revealed  any  thing 
to  us  which  he  did  not  intend  we  should  under 
stand,  or  that  there  is  any  truth  upon  these  sacred 
pages,  affecting  our  character  and  interest,  which  is 
not  in  itself  perfectly  intelligible  to  the  docile 


364  THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST. 

learner.  Granting  the  truth  of  all  that  may  be 
said  concerning  the  mysteries  of  the  Bible,  yet  you 
will  remember  that  these  mysteries  appertain  to 
the  facts  of  the  Christian  system,  their  nature  and 
modes,  which  are  not  matters  of  revelation,  and 
never  to  the  doctrines  of  the  system,  which  are  re 
vealed  truths  requiring  our  faith  and  obedience,  and 
demanding,  therefore,  an  intelligent  apprehension 
of  them.  With  these  views,  therefore,  I  am  not,  as 
I  come  before  you  with  this  subject  to-day,  to  be 
considered  a  vain  and  speculating  theorist,  nor  am 
I  to  be  classed  among  those  whom  an  idle  and  pru 
rient  curiosity  tempts  to  pry  into  the  unveiled  secre 
cies  of  the  Infinite  mind.  Rather  let  me  have  your 
attention,  as  one  who  believes  there  is  truth  here, 
of  vast  moment  to  ourselves,  truth  perfectly  intel 
ligible,  and  which  he  wishes  to  set  before  you  as 
part  of  the  counsel  of  God,  pointing  out  our  duty 
and  warning  us  of  our  danger. 

The  difficulty,  if  difficulty  there  is  about  our  sub 
ject,  grows,  I  imagine,  out  of  the  different  and  con 
flicting  theories  which  have  been  brought  forward 
in  its  explanation,  according  as  their  various  authors 
have  had  different  ends  in  view  to  guide  their  in 
vestigations,  and  control  their  reasonings.  With 
these  theories  we  have  nothing  to  do ;  we  will  not 
stop  even  to  mention  them ;  we  would  rather  dis 
possess  our  minds  of  their  influences,  and  come  and 
study  the  sacred  oracles  upon  this  point  as  though 
we  were  approaching  them  for  the  first  time  to  as 
certain  their  meaning.  With  such  a  spirit  then,  I 
ask  my  hearers  to  accompany  me  to-day. 


THE   SIN    AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST.  365 

Now,  when  we  look  at  the  language  of  Jesus 
Christ,  the  obvious  truth  upon  the  face  of  it,  is,  that 
it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  put  himself  in  a  position 
where  forgiveness  never  can  reach  him ;  and  he 
does  so  by  sinning  not  against  Jesus  Christ,  but  by 
sinning  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  Here  is  the  fact ; 
no  words  could  more  plainly  express  it,  and  as  a 
naked  fact  it  is  perfectly  intelligible.  But  you  ask 
me  to  explain  it ;  to  point  out,  if  possible,  those  of 
its  features  which  constitute  its  malignity,  and  ex 
clude  it  from  forgiveness,  and  to  shew  those  workings 
of  the  human  mind  by  which  a  man  reaches  a 
position  of  such  absolute  hopelessless.  We  acknow 
ledge  the  propriety  of  the  demand  you  make  upon 
us,  and  we  claim  your  strict  attention  to  the  effort 
we  make  to  meet  it. 

Indulge  me  then,  if  you  please,  in  two  or  three 
preliminary  remarks  which  may  serve  as  prepara 
tives  to,  and  guides  in  the  discussion  upon  which 
we  are  about  to  enter. 

The  Bible  then,  we  remark  in  the  first  place,  is 
eminently  a  practical  book ;  it  is  not  a  volume  of 
theories  to  amuse  the  speculative,  nor  are  its  con 
tents  designed  to  excite  or  to  satisfy  the  appetites 
of  the  inquisitive  and  the  curious.  Its  statements 
all  have  a  direct  bearing  upon  human  character ; 
its  doctrines  are  the  points  whence  the  lines  of 
Christian  conduct  are  drawn.  Its  obvious  aim  is 
to  make  men  holy.  It  is  meant  "  for  reproof,  for 
correction,  for  instruction  in  righteousness,  that 
the  man  of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  fur 
nished  unto  every  good  work."  As  the  value  of 


366  THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST. 

every  truth,  in  any  department  of  human  know 
ledge,  is  derived  from  its  adaptation  to  the  end  it  is 
calculated  to  subserve,  the  value  of  any  religious 
principle  is  derived  from  its  bearing  upon  the  con 
cerns  of  practical  godliness ;  and,  if  it  is  true,  that 
he  does  not  rightly  understand  the  gospel  who  does 
not  feel  its  moral  influence,  it  is  no  less  true  that 
he  does  not  understand  any  particular  doctrine  of 
the  gospel,  in  whose  mind  that  doctrine  is  not  im 
mediately  connected  with  some  practical  results. 
Grant  this  point,  and  there  is  no  difficulty  in  dis 
posing  of  not  a  few  of  the  theories  in  reference  to 
our  present  subject,  which  have  been  given  to  the 
world ;  for  of  the  vast  majority  of  them,  we  may 
affirm,  that  they  are  profitable  neither  for  doctrine, 
nor  for  reproof,  nor  for  instruction  ;  profitable  for 
nothing,  but  to  shew  the  ingenuity  of  their  authors, 
and  gratify  a  taste  for  the  wonderful  on  the  part 
of  the  curious. 

My  second  remark  is,  that  the  Bible,  as  a  whole, 
is  throughout  consistent  with  itself.  It  is  one  of  the 
strong  arguments  for  its  divinity,  that  though  its 
truths  have  been  revealed  at  "  sundry  times,  and  in 
divers  manners,"  yet  they  are  perfectly  harmo 
nious.  Acuteuess,  and  learning,  and  labour  have 
been  pressed  into  the  service  of  its  enemies,  in  order, 
if  possible,  to  discover  some  contradiction  or  incon 
sistency,  but  in  vain.  There  may  be,  indeed,  prin 
ciples  herein  revealed,  the  perfect  consistency  of 
which  with  each  other,  we,  on  account  of  our  short 
sightedness,  may  not  be  able  to  make  manifest,  but 
there  are  none  between  which  the  most  powerful 


THE  SEST   AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST.  367 

mind  lias  been  able  to  show  the  slightest  opposi 
tion.  As  in  the  system  of  the  universe  every 
planet  has  its  own  orbit,  and  every  star  its  own 
position,  and  all  roll  on  in  perfect  harmony, 
no  one  affecting,  so  as  to  disturb  the  precision  of 
another's  movement,  to  the  production  of  one  gen 
eral  result ;  so  in  the  system  of  God's  revelation, 
every  truth  has  its  proper  bearing,  every  doctrine 
its  appropriate  place  in  its  relation  to  the  rest,  no 
one  clashing  with  or  neutralizing  the  influence  of 
the  other,  but  all  combining  to  bring  about  one 
grand  end.  Hence  there  is  no  safer  rule  of  Scrip 
tural  interpretation  than  that  which  grows  out  of 
the  consistency  of  Scripture  doctrines ;  no  view  of 
one  part  of  the  word  of  God  can  be  correct  which 
clashes  with  a  true  view  of  any  other  part  of  the 
word  of  God. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  moreover,  concerning 
this  revelation  of  truth,  that  its  distinctive  features, 
or  fundamental  doctrines,  are  presented  so  fully, 
that  "  the  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  need  not 
err"  regarding  them.  They  are  like  lines  of  light 
running  through  the  Bible,  illuminating  all,  and 
explaining  all.  No  man  who  is  willing  to  give  to 
the  interests  of  his  deathless  spirit  a  tithe  even  of 
the  attention  which  he  knows  they  justly  demand, 
need  remain  in  doubt  about  the  revelations  of  the 
Bible  concerning  the  essentials  of  vital  godliness, 
nor  commit  a  mistake  as  to  the  method  it  discloses 
for  securing  everlasting  life. 

All  the  statements  and  principles  of  the  word  of 
God,  grow  out  of  two  or  three  great  fundamental 


368  THE   SENT    AGAINST  THE    HOLT    GHOST. 

facts.  Its  different  doctrines  are  but  the  presenta 
tion  of  these  simple,  undeniable  facts,  in  their 
different  relations,  whether  to  God  or  to  man, 
whether  to  the  past,  the  present,  or  the  future, 
whether  to  the  world  which  is,  or  the  world  which 
is  to  come.  And  as  in  studying  the  more  abstruse 
and  complicated  problems  of  any  human  science, 
we  derive  our  light  and  our  help  from  its  axioms, 
its  postulates,  its  first  principles,  so  in  order  to  en 
lighten  what  may  seem  dark,  and  explain  what 
may  seem  difficult  of  comprehension  on  the  pages 
of  this  inspired  testimony,  we  must  borrow  light 
and  help  from  its  essential  doctrines,  those  which 
are  revealed  so  plainly,  and  exhibited  so  fully, 
that  their  meaning  cannot  be  but  through  wilful 
ness  mistaken. 

And  now,  as  under  the  influence  of  these  re 
marks,  and  under  the  guardianship  of  this  great 
law  of  scriptural  interpretation,  we  approach  the 
task  of  explanation  which  is  set  before  us,  let  us 
see  if  we  cannot  discover  some  principle,  so  plainly 
revealed,  and  lying  so  directly  upon  the  face  of  the 
Bible  that  no  one  can  mistake  its  meaning  or  avoid 
its  perception,  which  may  shed  its  light  upon  the 
apparent  intricacies  of  our  subject,  and  afford  us 
help  in  our  effort  to  solve  its  mysteries.  Is  there 
one  central  point  of  light  in  the  Bible  which  we 
may  always  so  keep  in  view  as  to  prevent  us  from 
being  entangled  in  the  thickets,  or  swamped  in  the 
quagmires  of  human  speculation  ?  Is  there  one 
raised  position  which  commands  the  whole  field  of 
Christian  truth  ?  I  think  there  is  ;  and  upon  that 


THE  SIN"  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST.     369 

light  I  fix  my  eye,  and  upon  that  position  I  plant 
my  feet.  I  have  it  here,  my  brethren,  in  this  sim 
ple  truth,  which  shines  out  with  irresistible  power 
of  conviction  upon  every  page  of  the  Bible,  that 
the  forgiveness  of  sin  and  eternal  life  through  Jesus 
Christ,  is  offered  to  every  man  to  ivhom  the  gospel  is 
made  Icnoiun.  That  offer  is  based  upon  the  atone 
ment  of  the  Son  of  God,  on  that  wondrous  sacrifice, 
whose  blood,  we  are  told,  "  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin." 
This  is  the  peculiar  glory  of  the  gospel  as  a  system 
of  relief  for  fallen  man  ;  that  it  excepts  none  from 
an  interest  in  its  provisions,  excludes  none  from  its 
pardons,  because  of  the  greatness  of  his  guilt.  It 
meets  the  apostate  sons  and  daughters  of  an  apos 
tate  parent,  whatever  the  position  they  may  oc 
cupy  on  the  graduated  scale  of  human  sinfulness, 
with  the  only  help  for  the  highest,  and  a  sufficient 
help  for  the  lowest.  The  uprightness  of  one  will 
not  do  away  the  necessity  of  his  pardon ;  the  aban 
donment  of  the  other  wrill  not  of  itself  prevent  his 
forgiveness.  The  offer  is  limited  not  by  the  char 
acter  of  its  subjects,  but  by  the  value  of  the  sac 
rifice  out  of  which  it  grows ;  and,  therefore,  it  is 
that  we  can  go  with  the  gospel  to  the  farthest  out 
cast  from  God,  and  say  to  him,  "  Come,  now,  and  let 
us  reason  together  ;  though  your  sins  were  as  scar 
let,  they  shall  be  white  as  snow ;  though  they  were 
red  as  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool."  Strictly 
speaking,  then,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  sin  in  its 
own  nature  unpardonable,  because  there  are  no 
limits  to  the  value  of  that  blood  which  cleanses 
from  sin.  There  is  not  a  case  of  transgression, 

<— *  i 

24 


370  THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLY   GHOST. 

magnify  it  as  you  may,  which  redeeming  mercy 
cannot  reach,  nor  a  sin  of  a  dye  so  deep,  as  to  neu 
tralize  the  purifying  efficacy  of  a  Redeemer's  atone 
ment.  The  unpardoned  sinner  carries  his  oppress 
ive  load  of  guilt  upon  the  conscience,  and  at  last 
sinks  under  its  weight  to  a  deep  perdition,  not  be 
cause  God  could  not,  or  would  not  save  him,  but 
because  he  refuses  to  avail  himself  of  the  ample 
provision  which  a  God  of  infinite  wisdom  and 
mercy  has  made  for  his  relief. 

While  in  view  of  this  first  element  of  truth,  we 
must  claim  that  no  sin  whatever  is  in  its  own  na 
ture  unpardonable,  we  must  at  the  same  time  ad 
mit  that  there  is  a  sin,  which,  in  point  of  fact,  never 
has  forgiveness.  There  is  a  guilt — there  may  be 
none  of  those  outward  deformities  about  it,  which 
make  us  shrink  from  its  exhibition — yet  of  such  a 
nature  that  in  point  of  fact,  the  cleansing  blood  of 
the  Eedeemer  never  reaches  it.  Its  subjects,  (they 
are  found,  believe  me,  in  the  ranks  of  our  gospel- 
hearing  population,)  its  subjects  have  placed  them 
selves  in  such  a  position  that  they  never  will  know 
the  power  of  a  Saviour's  atonement,  except  as  it  is 
to  them  "  a  savor  of  death  unto  death,"  and  in 
creases  the  weight  and  the  woe  of  their  final  con 
demnation. 

Now,  we  have  here  a  principle  and  a  fact,  and 
they  are  both  presented  in  the  Bible,  and  presented 
so  distinctly  that  we  can  neither  controvert  the  one, 
nor  question  the  other.  No  sin  can  transcend  the 
infinite  value,  and  the  cleansing  efficacy  of  a  Sa 
viour's  blood  ;  but  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost 


THE   SEN"   AGAINST   THE   HOLY   GHOST.  371 

never  hath  forgiveness.  There  may  be,  at  first 
sight,  an  apparent,  but  a  careful  examination  will 
show  that  there  is  no  real  contradiction  between 
them ;  and  hence  no  explanation  of  the  sin  in 
question  can  be  the  correct  one  which  clashes,  in 
the  least  degree,  with  this  fundamental  principle, 
that  "  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us  from 
all  sin." 

"We  bring  in  then,  at  this  point,  another  princi 
ple  of  the  Bible,  no  less  clearly  announced,  no  less 
indisputable  than  the  former,  which  may  serve  to 
carry  us  one  step  farther  forward  in  our  investiga 
tion.  It  relates  to  the  necessity  of  repentance  and 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  in  order  to  the  forgiveness  of 
any  sin.  "  Kepent  ye,  and  believe  the  gospel ; 
Eepent,  that  your  sins  may  be  forgiven,"  are  the 
plain  Scriptural  statements  of  the  only  terms  upon 
which  mercy  coming  through  the  atonement  is  dis 
pensed  unto  the  children  of  men.  Thus  the  limita 
tions  of  God's  pardoning  love  are  regulated  by  the 
contrition  and  faith  of  its  recipients.  Repentance 
and  forgiveness  always  go  hand  in  hand  throughout 
the  Bible,  and  human  experience.  The  least  sin 
unconfessed  and  unforsaken,  shuts  a  man  out  from 
hope.  The  greatest  sin,  if  sincerely  and  honestly 
mourned  over  and  acknowledged,  is  no  barrier  to 
a  full  forgiveness. 

I  suppose,  that  up  to  this  point,  I  have  carried 
the  assent  of  all  my  hearers  along  with  me,  because 
I  have  been  dealing  with  the  first  and  simplest 
elements,  the  axioms,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  of  re 
vealed  truth. 


372  THE    SIN    AGAINST   THE    HOLY    GHOST. 

Let  us  come  then  with  these  as  our  guides,  to  the 
record  before  us,  and  see  whether  we  cannot  make 
plain  its  apparent  mysteries.  You  will  find,  if  you 
give  a  careful  attention  to  the  words  of  our  Sa 
viour,  that  there  is  a  broad  and  palpable  distinction 
between  sin  against  the  Son  of  man  and  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Strange,  you  may  say,  that  it 
should  be  so,  but  no  less  true  that  it  is  so.  There 
must  be  some  reason  for  the  distinction,  and  in  that 
reason,  if  we  can  discover  it,  we  shall  find,  if  I  mis 
take  not,  the  key  to  our  subject.  Now,  in  our 
estimate  of  human  sinfulness,  we  have  been  accus 
tomed  to  take  our  measures  of  it  solely  from  the 
personal  dignity  of  him  whose  laws  have  been 
transgressed,  and  whose  authority  has  been  re 
sisted  ;  and,  if  this  is  our  only  rule  of  judgment, 
then,  I  confess,  that  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost 
is  perfectly  inexplicable;  for  I  cannot  find  from 
the  Scriptures,  that  in  point  of  personal  dignity 
there  is  any  difference  between  the  Son  and  the 
Holy  Ghost.  And  in  view  of  those  who  imagine 
that  they  can  discover  a  difference,  the  mystery  of 
our  subject  must  be  deeper  and  more  impenetra 
ble,  placing  as  they  do  the  Spirit  in  a  position  of 
inferiority  to  the  Son,  according  to  which  arrange 
ment,  if  iniquity  as  to  its  demerit  is  to  be  measured 
by  the  personal  dignity  of  Him  who  is  sinned 
against,  the  sin  against  the  Son  must  be  more 
heinous  than  the  sin  against  the  Spirit.  But  as  I 
read  the  testimony  of  inspiration,  the  Father  is 
God,  the  Son  is  God,  the  Holy  Ghost  is  God.  The 
scriptural  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  as  I  understand 


THE    SIN    AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST.  3*73 

it,  is  that  of  three  personal  subsistences  of  one  and 
the  same  God,  "the  same  in  substance,  equal  in 
power  and  glory."  I  bring  up  this  doctrine  here 
not  to  illustrate  it ;  not  to  defend  it,  but  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  shewing  that  the  reason  of  the 
difference  between  sin  against  the  Son,  and  the  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  not  to  be  found  in  a  dif 
ference  of  personal  dignity  between  them,  making 
this  the  measure  of  sin's  heinousness.  There  is  no 
more  criminality  in  one  sin  than  in  another ;  for 
what  in  this  sense  is  said  against  the  Son  is  said 
against  God,  as  truly  as  what  is  said  against  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

But  is  there  no  other  measure  of  human  sinful- 
ness  ?  Is  there  not  something  due  to  office  as  well 
as  character  ?  Is  there  not  thrown  around  the 
chief  magistrate  an  authority  which  does  not  belong 
to  him  as  a  private  citizen  ?  Is  a  child  no  more 
guilty  when  he  spurns  the  counsel  and  tramples 
upon  the  command  of  a  parent  than  when  he 
spurns  the  counsel  and  tramples  upon  the  will  of 
a  stranger;  and  that  though  in  point  of  personal 
dignity,  the  parent  and  the  stranger  may  stand 
upon  an  equal  footing,  or  if  there  is  any  difference, 
in  this  respect,  between  them,  it  may  be  even  in 
favour  of  the  stranger  ? 

Now  I  find  the  reason  of  the  difference  between 
the  sin  against  the  Son  and  the  sin  against  the 
Spirit,  in  the  different  offices  which  they  respec 
tively  exercise  in  the  great  work  of  redeeming 
man  from  sin  and  death.  Here  is  the  key  with 
which  I  would  unlock  the  mysteries  of  this  unpar- 


874  THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLT   GHOST. 

donable  transgression.  The  office  of  the  Son,  as 
we  are  taught  in  the  Scriptures,  is  to  make  an 
atonement  for  sin — the  office  of  the  Spirit  is  to 
apply  that  atonement.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  the 
great  agent  of  the  Gospel,  who  brings  nigh  to  us 
its  blessings,  its  pardons,  and  its  hopes,  as  he  brings 
us  to  that  state  of  mind,  that  repentance  and  faith, 
without  which  we  can  never  receive  them.  Hence, 
in  the  discharge  of  his  work,  according  to  the 
promise  of  the  Saviour,  he  convinces  "  the  world 
of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment."  He 
brings  truth,  in  its  clearness  and  power,  before  the 
mind,  and  opens  the  mind  to  receive  it.  He  sets 
the  obligations  of  the  truth  before  the  view,  and 
quickens  the  conscience  to  feel  them.  "When  the 
facts  of  the  gospel  come  home  to  the  mind  and 
heart,  as  great  and  solemn  and  stirring  realities, 
the  Holy  Ghost  is  there.  When  conscious  guilt 
troubles  the  spirit,  and  fear  takes  hold  upon  one, 
so  as  to  force  from  him  the  anxious  inquiry,  "  What 
shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  the  Spirit  of  God  is 
there.  When  the  cross  of  Christ,  girt  with  its  bow 
of  promise  and  of  hope,  and  yet  red  with  the 
blood  of  atonement,  meets  the  eye,  and  the  soul 
bows  and  casts  itself,  humbled,  penitent,  and  be 
lieving,  at  the  Eedeemer's  feet,  the  Holy  Ghost  is 
there.  Thus,  without  his  influences,  we  see  no  evil 
in  sin,  and  no  beauty  in  the  cross;  without  his 
influences,  we  know  not  the  remonstrances  of  a 
gospel-stirred  conscience,  nor  the  peace-speaking 
power  of  atoning  blood.  Conviction,  it  is  his  gift ; 
repentance,  faith,  they  are  his  gifts.  His  design  is 


THE    SIN   AGAINST   THE    HOLY    GHOST.          3*75 

to  bring  us  to  the  experience  of  the  former,  and  to 
the  exercise  of  the  latter,  and  thus  to  place  us  in 
that  moral  position,  where  alone  the  blood  of 
Christ,  in  its  efficacy,  and  the  forgiveness  of  God 
in  its  fulness  and  freeness,  can  possibly  reach  us. 

Now,  when  you  say  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  he  is 
"  as  a  root  out  of  dry  ground,  without  form  or 
comeliness,"  you  sin  against  the  Son  of  man,  and  it 
shall  be  forgiven  you ;  but  when  you  resist  the 
influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  would  con 
vince  you  of  sin,  of  righteousness  and  judgment, 
and  place  you  where  you  can  see  a  Redeemer's 
beauty,  and  feel  the  power  of  his  cross,  and  rely 
upon  his  atonement,  then  you  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  it  shall  never  be  forgiven — and 
that  not  because  the  blood  of  Christ  will  not 
cleanse  us  from  all  sin,  but  because  by  our  opposi 
tion  to  the  Spirit's  influences,  we  put  ourselves  in 
a  position,  where  that  blood  can  never  reach  to 
cleanse  us. 

Hence,  in  view  of  the  principles  above  illustra 
ted,  we  reach  our  conclusion.  The  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost,  which  never  hath  forgiveness,  seems 
to  be  such  a  resistance  to  all  his  spiritual  influences, 
to  all  his  invitations,  to  all  his  pleadings,  to  all  his 
remonstrances — such  a  wilful  blinding  of  the 
mind  to  all  the  revelations  of  spiritual  things  which 
he  makes  to  the  soul,  such  a  wanton  stifling  of  all 
the  convictions  of  conscience,  which  he  kindles,  as 
grieves  him  in  all  his  kindness,  and  quenches  him 
in  all  his  light,  neutralizes  him  in  all  his  power,  and 
drives  him  away  from  the  soul  for  ever.  When 


376  THE    SIN    AGAINST   THE    HOLY    GHOST. 

the  Spirit  of  the  living  God  has  for  the  last  time 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  human  heart,  made  his 
last  appeal  to  the  human  conscience,  and  moved  for 
the  last  time  without  effect  upon  the  human  soul, 
and  then  takes  his  final  flight,  and  leaves  man  to 
himself,  then  we  say,  the  work  is  done — the  soul  is 
irrecoverably  lost — as  the  man  never  will  be 
brought  to  repentance,  so  he  will  never  be  forgiven. 
He  has  resisted  God  in  the  closest  approach  he  can 
make  to  the  human  spirit,  he  has  resisted  him.  in 
view  of  the  clearest  light,  he  has  resisted  the  most 
effective  instrumentality  and  the  most  powerful 
motives  ministered  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  is  sealed 
up  for  judgment — and  the  moment  the  cup  of  his 
iniquity  begins  to  run  over,  he  will  be  delivered  up 
to  its  dreadful  and  undying  penalties. 

I  am  not  ignorant  of  the  fact,  that  the  view 
which  I  have  given  of  my  subject,  differs  from  some 
usually  adopted,  all  of  which  find  the  sin  in  ques 
tion  in  some  overt  act,  such  for  example  as  the  as 
cription  of  the  miracles  of  our  Saviour  to  Satanic 
influence,  and  some  of  which  consider  it  as  peculiar 
to  the  days  of  miraculous  agency.  Now  we  admit 
that  it  was  an  overt  act  on  the  part  of  the  Phari 
sees  which  drew  this  solemn  language  from  the  lips 
of  our  Lord  ;  it  was  "  because  they  said  he  had  an 
unclean  spirit."  The  conclusion,  however,  that  it 
requires  words  to  commit  this  crime,  or  that  the 
Pharisees  had  been  guilty  of  it,  are  entirely  too 
broad  for  the  premises.  Words  are  nothing,  sepa 
rate  from  the  thought  and  feeling  which  they  ex 
press — an  overt  act  is  nothing,  separate  from  the 


THE   SIN    AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST. 

moral  principle  it  embodies.  The  heart  is  the  seat 
of  moral  character,  and  the  sphere  of  divine  legis 
lation  ;  and  where  the  temper  of  mind  involved  in 
any  overt  act  exists,  there,  in  the  sight  of  God,  is 
the  sin,  even  though  it  found  no  outward  expression ; 
and  existing  there,  it  shuts  a  man  out  from  hope,  as 
truly  as  though  it  had  found  a  public  manifesta 
tion.  "We  cannot  surely  be  mistaken  here,  when 
we  find  Jesus  Christ,  in  this  very  context,  acting  as 
his  own  interpreter,  telling  us  that  "  for  every  idle" 
or  malicious  "  word,  man  shall  give  account  in 
the  day  of  judgment ;"  that  "by  our  words  we  shall 
be  justified  and  by  our  words  we  shall  be  con 
demned,"  because  "  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh."  The  persons  who  were 
now  addressed,  had  unquestionably  displayed  a  bit 
ter  hostility  to  the  truth,  and  a  determination  to 
resist  it,  in  opposition  to  the  most  convincing  evi 
dence  ;  and  the  words  of  our  Saviour  had  undoubt 
edly  reference  to  this,  their  moral  temper  and  spi 
rit — and  yet  we  should  be  slow  to  charge  them 
with  the  sin  in  question.  That  they  were  in  dan 
ger,  in  great  danger  of  passing  over  the  line  which 
would  separate  them  from  the  prisoners  of  hope,  is 
admitted,  but  that  they  had  actually  crossed  that 
line  there  is  no  certain  evidence  in  the  narrative  to 
prove — rather  do  we  suppose  that  our  Saviour, 
perceiving  their  temper,  their  fixed  determination 
to  resist  all  the  light  and  moral  influence  which  could 
be  shed  down  upon  them,  was  uttering  the  lan 
guage  of  warning  in  view  of  the  scenes  of  Pente 
costal  times,  which  were  close  at  hand,  when  the 


378  THE   SIN   AGAINST  THE   HOLY   GHOST. 

Holy  Ghost  was  to  descend,  as  the  peculiar  agent 
of  the  gospel  dispensation — the  last  and  crowning 
evidence  of  the  divinity  of  the  Redeemer's  mission 
and  kingdom. 

We  place  then  our  subject  with  this  explanation 
before  you,  simply  remarking  in  view  of  what  we 
have  said,  that  if  you  would  discover  this  "sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,"  you  must  look  for  it  in 
the  temper  of  the  human  heart,  its  determined  and 
effectual  resistance  to  the  promised  influences  of  the 
Spirit  of  God.  The  degree  of  that  resistance,  and 
the  extent  to  which  it  must  be  carried  in  order  to 
convict  a  man  of  this  transgression,  we  shall  not 
undertake  to  define.  We  leave  that  point  to  the 
determination  of  him  who  can  measure  guilt  much 
better  than  we  can,  and  who  knows  how  far  he  can 
consistently  go,  in  his  means  to  reclaim  the  sinner 
to  his  forsaken  love  and  obedience. 

But,  my  brethren,  if  the  principles  we  have  laid 
down  are  true,  and  the  explanation  which  they  have 
furnished  of  our  doctrine  is  correct,  there  are  some 
lessons  taught  us  we  would  do  well  to  study,  and  a 
practical  bearing  of  our  subject  which  we  dare  not 
overlook.  If  I  am  right  in  my  positions,  then  it  is 
evident  that  "the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost" 
does  not  consist  in  any  one  individual  act.  You 
must  not  attempt  to  find  it  in  this  sinful  thought  or 
that  sinful  thought,  in  this  or  that  unholy  deed. 
You  must  not  attempt  to  find  it  in  any  sin,  no  mat 
ter  how  great  it  may  have  been,  which  has  filled 
the  soul  with  contrition,  and  has  been  followed  by 
deep  repentance.  You  must  not  find  it  in  any 


THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST.  379 

thing,  the  recollection  of  which  penetrates  the 
heart  with  a  sense  of  its  own  vileness,  loathsome 
ness,  and  shame.  You  can  never  find  it  amid  tears 
of  repentance  and  confessions  of  sin,  but  you  must 
find  it  in  a  settled  habit  of  the  soul,  a  habit  of  de 
termined  resistance  to  God  in  the  nearest  approaches 
he  can  make  to  the  conscience  and  the  heart- — a  habit 
of  mind  to  which  repentance  is  a  stranger,  which 
knows  nothing  of  the  pangs  of  ingenuous  sorrow, 
which  locks  up  the  secret  places  of  feeling  and  of  tears 
in  the  human  soul  against  all  the  appeals  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  which  can  breast  itself  in  proud  defiance 
to  the  whole  moral  armament  of  heaven,  and  binds 
the  spirit  with  the  stronger  than  adamantine  chains 
of  a  confirmed  and  eternal  impenitence.  Never 
should  I  think  to  find  the  victims  of  this  damning 
transgression  among  those  who  fear  that  they  are 
its  subjects  ;  such  a  fear  never  can  coexist  with  that 
callousness  of  conscience  and  insensibility  to  spirit 
ual  things,  which  are  inseparable  from  the  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost.  No,  I  would  find  it  among 
those  who  fear  it  least.  I  would  seek  for  its  dis 
tinctive  features  among  those  who,  year  after  year, 
have  crowded  our  sanctuaries,  where  truth  has  been 
ministered  weekly  in  the  demonstration  of  the 
Spirit ;  who  have  listened  to  arguments,  to  which 
though  they  could  not  answer  them,  they  have 
refused  to  yield,  and  have  resisted  "  the  pow 
ers  of  the  world  to  come,"  as  they  threw  their 
mighty  influences  over  the  soul.  The  ice  has  been 
gathering  round  their  hearts,  under  the  beams  of 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  ;  the  iron  has  turned  to 


380  THE    SIN    AGAINST   THE    HOLY    GHOST. 

steel,  under  the  action  of  the  fire  which  should  have 
melted  it,  and  the  stone  has  become  adamant  under 
the  strokes  of  the  hammer  which  should  have 
broken  it  to  pieces.  The  influences  of  the  truth 
play  around  them,  but  find  no  permanent  lodge 
ment  in  their  minds ;  and  they  pursue  their  wonted 
path  of  worldliness  and  sin,  clinging  to  their  spi 
ritual  idolatry,  unawed  by  all  that  is  fearful,  un 
moved  by  all  that  is  tender,  unaffected  by  all  that 
is  startling,  unhumbled  by  all  that  is  touching  in 
the  disclosures  which  have  been  made  by  a  God  of 
truth  and  of  love.  Within  the  circle,  around  which 
these  are  travelling,  you  will  find  the  subjects  of 
the  unpardonable  sin. 

If  I  am  right  in  the  view  which  I  have  given, 
then  does  my  subject  come  home  to  all  of  us  with 
peculiar  emphasis ;  I  speak  not  to  one  within  these 
sanctuary  walls,  who  has  not  a  deep  and  eternal 
interest  in  the  theme  upon  wrhich  I  have  been 
dwelling.  In  these  days  of  spiritual  declension, 
when  worldly  influences  seem  to  be  coming  over 
the  church  of  God  like  a  flood,  quenching  the  fire 
upon  its  altars,  and  sweeping  away  the  landmarks 
which  define  its  limits,  there  is  danger  that  not  a 

/  O 

few  who  have  professed  the  name  of  Christ,  may 
be  led  away  to  a  returnless  distance  from  the  peace 
and  hope  of  the  gospel.  The  Apostle  Paul  ap 
pears  to  have  taken  his  hint  from  our  present  sub 
ject,  when  he  gave  utterance  to  his  impressive 
warning,  "  It  is  impossible  for  those  who  were  once 
enlightened,  and  have  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift, 
and  were  made  partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 


THE    SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST.  381 

have  tasted  the  good  word  of  God,  and  the  powers 
of  the  world  to  come ;  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to 
renew  them  again  unto  repentance,  seeing  they  cru 
cify  to  themselves  the  Son  of  God  afresh,  and  put 
him  to  an  open  shame."  "  If  we  sin  wilfully  after 
that  we  have  received  a  knowledge  of  the  truth, 
there  remaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin."  The 
catastrophe  in  man's  moral  history,  then,  of  which 
we  speak,  is  placed  in  connection  with  a  neglect  of 
gospel  privileges,  as  the  means  through  which  the 
Spirit  of  God  operates,  an  undervaluing  or  abuse 
of  which  is  consequently  a  resistance  to  his  influ 
ences  which  forfeits  them  forever.  Hence  all  de 
clensions  from  the  life  and  power  of  godliness  tend 
to  this  very  result.  With  these  declensions  you  will 
find  uniformly  associated  an  insensibility  of  con 
science,  and  a  listlessness  in  reference  to  spiritual 
things.  It  is  this  insensibility  which  makes  the 
matter  so  alarming.  Decline  in  religion,  like  de 
cline  in  nature,  blinds  us  to  its  symptoms.  There 
is,  perhaps,  no  disease  which  indicates  less  the  fatal 
errand  upon  which  it  is  sent,  none  which  like  this 
presents  to  its  subject  such  flattering  promises.  It 
gives  to  the  eye  a  peculiar  brilliancy,  and  to  the 
cheek  an  appearance  of  health,  filling  the  heart 
with  hope,  and  suffusing  it  with  life,  when  the 
winding  sheet  has  already  been  woven,  and  the 
shades  of  death  are  fast  falling  upon  the  pathway. 
Thus  the  road  which  leads  to  a  spiritual  abandon 
ment,  is  a  gradual  descent,  travelled  at  first  by  an 
easy  and  imperceptible  though  constantly  acceler 
ated  progress.  Its  stages  are  first,  indifference  ; 


382  THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLT   GHOST. 

then  carnality  of  spirit,  concealed  under  a  constant 
attention  to  the  forms  of  religion,  and  then,  an 
open  departure  from  the  life  and  power  of  godli 
ness,  and  a  final  renunciation  of  the  vows  as  well 
as  the  spirit  of  religion. 

"  The  fearful  soul  that  tires  and  faints, 

And  walks  the  ways  of  God  no  more, 
Is  but  esteemed  almost  a  saint, 

And  makes  his  own  destruction  sure." 

We  do  not  indeed  pretend  to  say  of  every  one 
who  may  be  thus  described,  that  he  has  placed 
himself  forever  beyond  the  reach  of  those  spiritual 
influences  by  which  alone  he  can  be  recalled  to 
repentance.  God  forbid  that  we  should  write 
down  any  man  as  lost,  while  the  pulse,  though 
feeble,  yet  beats,  and  the  eye,  though  dim,  yet 
moves ;  but  oh !  if  our  subject  has  any  meaning, 
it  tells  us  that  the  man  who  is  grieving  the  Spirit 
of  God,  by  departing  from  his  ways,  is  treading 
upon  dangerous  ground,  because  ground  enchanted 
by  the  wiles  and  witcheries  of  sin ;  and  it  will  be 
owing  to  the  wondrous  grace  of  God,  if  he  does  not 
pass  the  line  which  separates  him  from  hope  for 
ever,  while  in  the  midst  of  his  carnal  security,  he 
is  crying  peace  to  his  infatuated  spirit.  Our  only 
security,  my  Christian  brethren,  is  found  in  a  life 
of  growing  piety,  in  a  constant  walk  with  God, 
and  separation  from  the  world ;  for  as  piety  de 
clines,  we  resist  and  grieve  the  Spirit,  and  walk  in 
the  path  which  leads  to  apostacy  and  death. 

And  oh !  that  all  my  hearers  would  remember 
that  they  are  living  under  "  the  ministration  of  the 


THE    SIN    AGAINST   THE    HOLY    GHOST.  383 

Spirit."  Strangers  to  his  influences  we  are  not ; 
the  quickened  conscience,  and  the  beating  heart, 
the  wakened  anxiety,  and  the  starting  tear,  are  the 
demonstrations  of  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
That  blessed  Comforter,  with  whose  gracious  influ 
ences  our  best,  and  brightest,  and  only  spiritual 
hopes  are  connected,  moves  over  the  soul,  and 
gives  in  its  view  a  reality  and  impressiveness  to 
the  truth  of  God.  Solemn  and  interesting  are  our 
circumstances  as  the  subjects  of  his  agency ;  and  I 
would  bring  the  influence  of  my  subject,  this  morn 
ing,  to  bear  upon  those  whose  memory  of  the  past, 
or  whose  consciousness  of  the  present,  testifies  to 
ineffectual,  because  resisted  strivings  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  There  is  such  a  thing,  believe  me,  my 
brethren,  as  putting  one's  self  in  a  position  where 
neither  repentance  nor  forgiveness  can  ever  be 
reached,  because  there  is  such  a  thing  as  resisting 
the  Spirit  of  God,  until  he  takes  a  final  leave  of 
the  soul.  I  cannot  calculate  the  amount  of  resist 
ance  which  will  place  a  man  in  a  condition  in 
which  his  forgiveness  will  be  impossible,  but  I  can 
correct  a  dreadful  delusion,  under  which  the  hu 
man  mind  often,  labours.  I  mean  the  delusion  that 
a  man  fruitlessly  plied  with  the  influences  of  the 
gospel,  may  go  on,  just  as  he  is,  and  that  at  some 
future  time  the  way  of  repentance  will  be  as  open 
to  him,  as  it  was  when  first  he  was  conscious  of  the 
movement  of  the  Spirit  of  God  upon  his  soul.  It 
is  a  terrible  statement,  but  a  true  one,  calculated 
to  awaken  the  salutary  and  deep  anxiety  of  every 
unconverted  hearer  of  the  gospel.  The  day  of 


384  THE   SIJST   AGAINST   THE   HOLY    GHOST. 

grace  does  not  always  run  on  parallel  with  human 
life,  to  its  utmost  limit ;  a  man  may  be  abandoned 
by  God's  spirit  at  any  time,  as  having  been  suffi 
ciently  striven  with,  and  admonished,  and  warned. 
And  thus,  in  this  case,  when  the  day  arrives  which 
may  have  been  marked  out  in  his  chronology  as  a 
fit  day  for  repentance,  a  day  the  anticipations  of 
which  have  served  as  anodynes  to  all  his  spiritual 
fears,  when  it  arrives  it  may  pass  by  as  a  day  of 
little  or  no  anxiety.  The  mortification  has  com 
menced,  and  the  pain  has  departed,  and  spiritual 
death  is  there ;  or  if  not  this,  if  an  approaching 
catastrophe  startles  him,  he  may  be  terrified  by 
the  phantom  of  wrath,  and  yet  not  be  induced  to 
seek  for  mercy.  He  may  have  faith  enough  to  be 
lieve  in  a  certain  perdition,  but  not  faith  enough 
to  cling  to  the  only  deliverer.  Oh  !  where  is  this 
mysterious  line  of  God's  forbearance  ?  I  know  not. 
One  may  stand  on  one  side  of  it,  at  one  moment, 
and  cross  it  the  next.  One  may  reach  it  after 
years  of  walking  ;  another,  while  his  step  has  lost 
nothing  of  its  youthful  spring.  But  if  there  be 
one  who  remembers  the  seasons  of  the  Spirit's 
power  within  his  soul ;  if  there  be  one  who  cannot 
compute  (because  their  number  is  so  large)  his 
stifled  convictions ;  if  there  be  one  who  in  view  of 
the  truth  of  God,  has  thought  oft  and  deeply  upon 
the  concerns  of  his  soul;  if  there  be  one  who, 
though  he  could  not  resist  the  evidence  of  the 
truth,  brought  home  to  him  by  the  messenger  of 
the  truth  in  his  Sabbath  argument,  has  yet  often 
resisted  the  truth  itself,  oh !  surely  we  may  say  of 


THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLY   GHOST.  385 

him,  that  lie  is  standing  on  the  mysterious  thresh 
old,  to  cross  which  is  to  enter  upon  a  region  of 
hopelessness  and  death.  And  a  conscience  every 
day  getting  weaker,  because  the  unseen  author  of 
its  remonstrances  is  every  day  lifting  a  feebler 
voice,  shall  be  to  him  the  proof  of  my  assertion. 
Look  at  it  for  a  moment.  Conscience  will  have  its 
last  conviction ;  the  Son  of  God  will  knock  for  the 
last  time  at  the  door  of  the  heart ;  the  Spirit  of 
truth  will  move  for  the  last  time  over  the  soul. 
Amid  all  these  convictions,  and  knockings,  and 
strivings,  some  one  must  be  the  last.  Oh !  ye  to 
whom  I  have  preached  so  long,  so  earnestly,  and 
so  fruitlessly,  how  near  are  ye  to  your  last  oppor 
tunity  ;  and  if  it  should  pass  unimproved,  will  it 
not  be  true  of  you,  that  you  will  be  crushed  by 
the  very  weight  of  your  mercies ;  that  privileges 
which  God  meant  for  blessings,  shall  prove  the 
heaviest  curses  ;  and  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  which  should  have  prepared  you  for  a  crown, 
and  fitted  you  for  joy,  will  help  only  to  build 
your  prison  and  fan  your  flames.  Quench  not,  \ 
pray  you,  the  Holy  Spirit. 


JUDAS    ISCARIOT;    OR,   THE    CONSEQUENCES    OF    A 
WORLDLY  SPIRIT. 

"  It  had  been  good  for  that  man  if  he  had  never  been  born." — 
MATTHEW  xxvi.  24. 


THE  words  of  the  text  which  we  have  just  read 
to  you  are  no  more  remarkable  for  the  preciseness 
of  their  statement  than  for  the  perspicuity  of  their 
meaning.  They  form  one  of  those  propositions  we 
occasionally  meet  with  which  carry  along  with 
them  their  own  interpretation  and  proof.  We  un 
derstand  them  perfectly,  we  feel  their  truth  the 
moment  they  are  uttered ;  no  ingenuity  of  criticism 
can  extort  from  them  any  but  one  sentiment,  no 
process  of  special  pleading  can  pervert  or  neutralize 
-their  inherent  evidence  of  truth.  They  form,  ag 
my  hearers  are  all  aware,  the  prophetic  history  (if 
I  may  use  such  language,)  which  our  Saviour  has 
written  of  the, man  who  betrayed  him — the  in 
spired  epitaph  written  over  the  grave  of  Judas 
Iscariot.  Among  candid  readers  of  the  Bible  there 
is,  I  believe,  but  one  opinion  concerning  the  des 
tiny  of  this  false  and  apostate  disciple.  "We  feel 
in  reference  to  him  as  we  feel  in  reference  to  no 


CONSEQUENCES    OF    A    WORLDLY    SPIRIT.         387 

other  man  who  has  figured  upon  the  theatre  of  the 
world,  and  then  passed  off  the  stage  to  enter  upon 
a  scene  of  retribution  ;  you  may  take  the  greatest 
monster  of  wickedness  whom  God  ever  flung  into 
the  world  seemingly  to  curse  it,  whose  actions  were 
but  a  catalogue  of  the  blackest  vices  in  the  calendar 
of  crime,  whose  every  foot-print  was  stained  with 
blood ;  who,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be  but  the  personi 
fication  of  the  spirit  of  evil ;  yet  when  you  think  of 
him  as  gone,  you  do  not  think  of  him  as  you  think 
of  Judas  Iscariot.     Of  all  men   who   have   ever 
passed  through  this  scene  of  probation  to  their 
reward,  he  is  the  only  one  of  whom  you  can  say 
without  hesitation,  he  is  lost ;  and  if  you  undertake 
to  analyse  this  feeling,  and  trace  it  to  its  source, 
you  cannot  possibly  explain  it,  except  as  originating 
in  this  language  of  Jesus  Christ  concerning  him,  "  It 
had  been  good  for  that  man  if  he  had  never  been 
born."     The  moment  you  read  these  words,  you 
feel — you  cannot  help  feeling — that  the  person  of 
whom  they  may  be  affirmed  is  lost,  and  not  only 
so,  but  irreparably  lost ;  that  his  destiny  is  one  of 
conscious  misery  without  mitigation,  and  without 
end.     It  is  by  this  simple  statement  of  the  Master, 
and  by  nothing  else,  that  we  are  driven  to  the  con 
clusion  which  seems  to  be  well  nigh  universal  con 
cerning  the  betrayer  of  his  Lord,  that  whatever 
there  may  be  for  others,  for  him  there  is  and  can 
be  no  redemption.     The  mental  process  by  which 
we  are  forced  to  this  conclusion  is  so  rapid  that  we 
do  not  always   perceive   distinctly  the   steps   by 
which  we  reach  it ;  it  is,  therefore, ^our  object  upon 


388        CONSEQUENCES    OF   A    WOELDLY   SPIEIT. 

the  present  occasion  to  subject  it  to  an  examination 
preparatory  to  applying  the  principles  herein  in 
volved,  that  you  may  perceive  how  it  is  reached 
by  means  of  several  almost  self-evident  consecutive 
truths.  Grant  this  proposition  concerning  any  man, 
that  it  would  have  been  better  for  him  never  to 
have  been  born  ;  and  I  see  not  how  it  is  possible 
for  the  human  mind  to  escape  the  conclusion  that 
his  destiny  must  be  one  of  interminable  suffering, 
without  contradicting  some  of  its  intuitive,  I  had 
almost  said,  instinctive  perceptions.  When  we  make 
this  plain,  I  think  we  shall  have  reached  a  general 
principle,  in  which  many  a  man  in  our  day  has  a 
deep  and  eternal  interest. 

I  begin  then  my  subject  with  a  statement  which 
no  one,  I  suppose,  will  dispute.  Existence  is  a 
blessing ;  every  man  desires  it ;  the  love  of  life 
is  an  essential  element  of  our  being.  There  is  a 
felt  horror  at  the  thought  of  passing  into  nothing 
ness,  which  forms  one  of  the  finest  arguments  of 
natural  theology  in  favour  of  the  immortality  of 
the  human  spirit ;  and  yet,  if  we  examine  our  con 
sciousness  upon  this  point  distinctly,  we  shall  dis 
cover  that  our  desires  do  not  terminate  upon  life 
in  itself  considered,  but  upon  the  good,  or  the  en 
joyment  which  is  supposed  to  be  connected  with 
it.  Strip  life  of  all  enjoyment,  and  it  ceases  to  be 
an  object  of  desire.  Thus  we  cling  instinctively  to 
the  good  of  existence,  and  shrink  as  instinctively 
from  the  evil  of  its  loss,  which  we  look  upon  as 
inseparable  from  annihilation  ;  if  you  could  separate 
existence  from  every  thing  in  the  shape  of  happi- 


CONSEQUENCES    OF   A   WORLDLY   SPIRIT.         389 

ness  and  sorrow,  it  would  have  no  properties  what 
ever  by  means  of  which  we  could  determine  its 
value.  And  upon  this  supposition,  it  would  be 
a  matter  of  entire  indifference  to  every  man,  and 
the  question  whether  he  would  be  or  cease  to  be 
would  be  one  which  would  not  call  up  a  single 
thought.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  life  is  de 
sirable,  or  otherwise,  according  to  the  amount  of 
happiness  or  misery  which  it  brings  along  with  it. 
If  this  is  true,  then  it  is  no  less  true  that  the  good 
of  life  must  preponderate  over  the  evil  to  make  it 
an  object  of  desire.  If  we  could  suppose  a  case  in 
which  the  happiness  and  misery  of  a  being  exactly 
balanced  each  other  in  every  respect,  we  would 
have  the  case  of  a  being  to  whom  it  would  be  per 
fectly  immaterial  whether  he  continues  or  ceases 
to  be ;  for  he  gains  nothing  by  living,  and  loses 
nothing  by  being  blotted  from  existence.  It  is 
only  as  the  one  preponderates  over  the  other,  that 
there  is  room  for  the  question,  whether  it  is  good 
or  otherwise  for  a  man  that  he  has  ever  been  born  ? 
If  there  is  more  happiness  than  misery,  then  we 
cling  to  life  with  an  unyielding  tenacity  ;  if  there  is 
more  misery  than  happiness,  annihilation  has  no 
horrors. 

True  it  is,  you  may  tell  me,  that  there  have  been 
men  whose  portion  seemed  to  be  nothing  but  misery, 
or  if  this  is  an  overcharged  statement,  whose  hours 
of  comfort,  not  to  say  enjoyment,  were  very  few,  in 
terspersed  here  and  there  among  their  long  continued 
seasons  of  sorrow,  pain  and  agony,  who  have  yet 
clung  to  life  with  a  tenacity  quite  as  remarkable  as 


390         CONSEQUENCES    OF    A    WORLDLY    SPIRIT. 

that  of  those  whose  circumstances  have  been  ex 
actly  the  reverse,  who  seem  to  be  contradictions  of 
my  doctrine,  and  conclusive  proofs  of  the  desirable 
ness  of  existence  in  itself,  irrespective  of  all  its  attri 
butes.  Even  admitting  the  statement  to  be  correct, 
(supposing  as  it  does  the  possibility  of  such  an 
acquaintance  on  our  part  with  all  the  circum 
stances  of  another,  as  will  enable  us  to  determine 
accurately  the  question  of  his  experience,)  it  is  seen 
at  once  that  the  statement  is  a  partial  one,  since 
it  confines  our  observation  to  present  circum 
stances,  and  leaves  altogether  out  of  view  the 
mighty  influence  of  hope.  Find  me  a  human  be 
ing  whose  life  is  a  life  of  unmingled  sorrow,  and 
who  withal  has  no  hope  of  a  favourable  change, 
and  I  will  find  you  one  for  whom  annihilation  has 
no  horrors,  and  who  can  say  with  perfect  sincerity, 
"  It  had  been  better  for  me  if  I  had  never  been 
born." 

Hence,  in  studying  a  question  like  the  present, 
we  never  reach  a  correct  conclusion  except  as  we  take 
into  view  the  whole  of  existence,  and  form  our 
judgment  from  the  sum  total  of  human  experience, 
as  the  aggregate  of  enjoyment  or  suffering  may 
seem  to  preponderate.  You  may  trace  the  course 
of  a  man  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  and  you 
may  be  satisfied  that  not  one  ray  of  light  has  ever 
beamed  upon  his  pathway  from  its  commencement 
to  its  close  upon  earth ;  that  every  hour  has  been  one 
of  suffering,  that  every  moment  has  been  one  of 
agony.  Yet,  if  when  he  reaches  the  close  of  his 
earthly  career,  he  is  ushered  upon  a  scene  of  unin- 


CONSEQUENCES    OF   A    WORLDLY    SPIEIT.         391 

terrupted,  eternal  blessedness,  it  were  idle  to  say, 
it  had  been  good  for  him  had  he  never  been  born, 
and  for  this  simple  reason ;  however  great  his  evils 
may  have  been,  his  actual  good  is  more  than  suffi 
cient  to  overbalance  the  whole  of  them.  So,  on 
the  other  hand,  if  you  could  find  a  man  whose  ex 
istence  is  one  of  joy,  whose  every  hour  is  one  of 
gladness,  whose  every  moment  is  one  of  unalloyed 
bliss,  so  that  not  a  single  cloud  lowers  on  his  path 
way,  nor  a  single  event  occurs  to  interrupt  the  even 
current  of  his  happiness,  yet  if  you  suppose  that  at 
the  end  of  his  earthly  career,  all  his  enjoyment  is 
at  an  end,  and  that  he  plunges  into  the  darkness, 
and  anguish,  and  despair  of  eternal  night,  it  is  true 
of  him  that  "  it  had  been  better  for  him  if  he  had 
never  been  born,"  because,  however  great  has  been 
his  good,  the  actual  evil  of  his  experience  will  more 
than  counterbalance  it  all. 

If  we  are  safe  thus  far,  we  take  another  position. 
In  the  present  state  of  things,  good,  at  least  in  hu 
man  estimation,  overbalances  evil,  and  hence  all 
men  wish  to  live  ;  and  for  one  I  am  satisfied  that 
men's  apprehensions  in  this  respect  are  in  accord 
ance  with  truth.  There  is  .more  good  than  evil  in 
this  world,  take  it  all  together.  As  there  are  more 
beauties  than  deformities  in  nature,  so  there  is  more 
happiness  than  misery  in  human  experience.  If  it 
were  otherwise,  this  world  would  no  longer  be  a 
world  of  probation,  but  a  world  of  retribution. 
My  experience  may  not  appear  to  you  to  bear  out 
this  statement — and  your  experience  may  to  me 
seem  to  contradict  it — but  every  man's  experience 


392         CONSEQUENCES    OF   A   WOELDLY   SPIEIT. 

proves  it  to  his  own  mind.  The  reason  of  these 
diverse  appearances  is  perfectly  obvious.  "We  do 
not  know  either  the  elements  or  sources  of  each 
other's  joys  and  sorrows.  What  might  elevate  me 
might  be  no  source  of  happiness  to  you — and  what 
might  depress  you  might  not  in  the  least  degree 
affect  me,  and  perhaps  might  administer  to  my  en 
joyment.  I  may  have  joys  which  you  cannot  ap 
preciate,  and  you  may  have  sorrows  to  which  I  am 
an  utter  stranger.  Place  me  in  your  circumstances, 
or  place  you  in  my  circumstances,  and  it  is  quite 
possible,  that  in  the  experience  of  both  of  us  con 
sequent  upon  this  change,  the  evil  might  overbal 
ance  the  good ;  but  take  man  as  he  is,  and  judge  of 
him  in  view  of  his  actual  capacities,  and  the  cir 
cumstances  in  which  Providence  has  placed  him, 
and  the  good  overbalances  the  evil  in  the  present 
life,  so  that  if  death  were  to  terminate  human  exist 
ence,  it  could  not  be  said  of  any  man,  "  it  had  been 
good  for  him  if  he  had  never  been  born."  Such,  at 
least,  is  the  unanimous  practical  decision  of  our 
race,  or  if  there  are  exceptions,  they  are  anomalies 
which  we  cannot  explain.  Who  will  pretend  to 
give  a  rational  explanation  of  suicide  ?  Who  does 
not  feel  that  it  is  in  itself  evidence  of  a  morbid,  un 
healthy,  unnatural  state  of  mind ;  that  it  is  the  act 
of  one,  who  for  the  time  being  has  lost  the  balance 
of  his  reasoning  powers,  and  under  the  influence 
of  a  temporary  hallucination  is  unable  to  look  at 
things  in  their  true  light,  and  judge  of  them  by  a 
proper  standard. 

Now  I  take  these  positions  as  unquestioned  and 


CONSEQUENCES    OF  A   WOELDLY   SPIRIT.        393 

unquestionable,  and  throw  their  light  upon  the 
sentiment  of  my  text,  and  ask  if  we  can  form  any 
adequate  idea  of  the  condition  of  the  man,  of  whom 
it  may  with  truth  be  said,  "  It  had  been  better  for 
him  if  he  had  never  been  born."  The  sentence 
speaks  volumes  to  the  mind.  Without  a  figure,  it 
is  more  imposing,  more  striking,  more  terrific,  than 
a  cluster  of  a  thousand  frightful  images  could 
make  it.  It  gives  a  bare  outline  of  human  destiny, 
and  leaves  the  imagination  to  run  wild,  as  it  fills 
up  the  picture  with  forbidding  and  horrid  crea 
tions.  What  does  it  mean  ?  Can  it  be  that  it  de 
signs  to  affirm  annihilation  of  the  human  spirit  ? 
Then  it  affirms  a  positive  untruth ;  for  if  the  per 
son  whose  condition  it  describes,  has  been  what  we 
usually  term  a  happy  man  in  this  world,  then  he 
has  actually  gained  something  by  his  existence. 
If  he  has  shared  in  the  common  allotments  of  hu 
manity,  still,  since  his  enjoyment  has  exceeded  in 
amount  his  suffering,  he  is  yet  a  gainer,  because 
the  annihilation  which  is  to  put  an  end  to  his  hap 
piness,  is  to  put  an  end  to  his  suffering  also.  Or, 
if  you  can  find  a  man  in  whose  experience  evil  pre 
ponderates  over  good,  if  hope  remains  and  gilds 
the  prospect  of  the  future  with  its  beautiful  and 
flattering,  though  too  often  delusive  hues,  he  can 
not  understand  the  sentiment  in  reference  to  him 
self.  No !  while  hope  remains,  annihilation  has  no 
charms  for  him  ;  he  had  rather  be  than  not  be, 

We  cannot  avoid  the  conclusion,  my  brethren, 
that  in  these  words  Jesus  Christ  has  given  us  a  mean 
ingless  sentence,  if  he  does  not  convey  the  idea  that 


394        CONSEQUENCES    OF   A    WORLDLY    SPIRIT. 

there  is  to  be,  consequent  upon  this  life,  a  state  of 
positive,  and  necessa  y,  and  perpetuated  existence. 
Man  is^to  live,  and  live  on,  with  all  his  suscepti 
bilities  and  capacities  of  pleasure  and  of  pain.  The 
human  mind  is  to  be  alive  to  every  thing  that 
affects  its  relations,  and  the  sensibilities  are  to  be 
quick  to  apprehend  every  thing  that  touches  the 
experience.  Man  will  understand  himself  per 
fectly  ;  be  conscious  of  his  losses  as  well  as  his 
gains.  Carrying  with  him  into  a  future  scene  all 
the  elements  and  laws  of  his  nature,  he  will  be  a 
living,  thinking,  feeling,  anticipating  being.  It 
must  be  so  ;  he  cannot  prevent  it ;  he  can  no  more 
check  the  current  of  his  existence,  as  it  continues 
to  roll  on,  than  he  could  originate  it  in  the  first 
instance.  He  can  no  more  of  himself  cease  to  be, 
than  he  could  of  himself  begin  to  be.  The  ques 
tion  of  his  existence  is,  by  a  necessity  of  nature, 
entirely  beyond  his  control.  The  power  which 
creates  is  the  only  power  equivalent  to  destroy. 
Man  may  modify  substances,  and  change  their 
form ;  but  he  can  annihilate  nothing.  He  may 
change  the  circumstances  or  mode  of  his  existence, 
but  he  cannot  by  any  possibility  destroy  it.  If  he 
could,  he  would  be  omnipotent.  If  he  could,  then 
it  would  not  be  true  of  any  man  that  "  it  had  been 
better  for  him  if  he  had  never  been  born,"  be 
cause,  since  existence,  separate  from  its  good  or 
evil,  is  a  matter  of  no  moment,  and  since  man  in 
the  present  state,  is  a  subject  of  more  good  than 
evil,  no  matter  how  severe  the  sufferings  of  another 
world  would  be,  he  might,  by  annihilating  himself, 


CONSEQUENCES    OF    A    WORLDLY    SPIRIT.        395 

terminate  at  once  all  his  experience  of  pain.  How 
then  could  the  sentiment  of  my  text  be  true  of  any 
man,  if  the  moment  a  scene  of  unmingled  misery 
were  entered,  he  could  blot  himself  at  once  from 
existence  ?  Hence,  our  first  conclusion  is,  that  man 
always  must  be  a  subj  ect  of  positive,  sensitive,  ne 
cessary  existence. 

Equally  indispensable  is  it,  in  our  apprehension, 
to  make  good  the  sentiment  of  the  text,  that  man's 
circumstances  hereafter  must  involve  greater  suffer 
ing  than  can  be  found  in  any  condition  of  existence 
in  this  world;  for  if  in  the  estimation  of  man,  ex 
istence  is  preferable  to  non-existence  ;  if  while  any 
enjoyment  remains  he  would  rather  live  for  the 
sake  of  that  enjoyment,  than  not  live,  the  conclu 
sion  is  inevitable,  that  no  condition  could  justify 
our  Saviour's  language,  but  one  reft  of  all  enjoy 
ment,  one  of  unmitigated  and  uninterrupted  suffer 
ing.  Oh  !  I  read  in  the  words  of  the  Son  of  God 
— I  wonder  how  any  man  can  fail  to  read  it — the 
utter  hopelessness  of  the  lost.  Give  me  hope,  and 
no  argument  can  convince  me  of  the  desirableness 
of  annihilation ;  nothing  but  an  utter  despair  can 
ever  commend  it  to  the  wishes  of  the  heart.  The 
present  moment  may  be  one  of  unalleviated  sor 
row.  There  may  be  nothing  in  any  of  our  actual 
experiences,  to  foster  the  desire  of  life.  There 
may  be  every  thing  to  force  us  to  say,  "  I  loathe  it, 
I  would  not  live  always."  But  when  hope  sheds 
its  influence  over  the  mind,  and  leads  me  to  balance 
expected  good  against  actual,  present  evil,  then  I 
shrink  back  (I  cannot  help  it)  from  the  thought 


396        CONSEQUENCES    OF   A    WOKLDLY   SPIRIT. 

of  destruction.  Hang  round  a  man  in  every  direc 
tion  the  emblems  of  sorrow,  to  correspond  with  his 
inward  experience,  and  let  hope  remain,  and  his 
spirit  is  cheered  and  sustained,  and  no  argument 
can  convince  him  that  annihilation  is  a  blessing 
Nothing  can  justify  the  language  of  the  text,  but  a 
condition  of  absolute  despair.  The  position  is  in 
controvertible,  existence  is  a  blessing,  if  wretched 
ness  stops  short  of  immortality.  A  man  may  wear 
away  millions  of  ages  in  the  experience  of  woe ; 
he  may  have  heaped  upon  him  torment  after  tor 
ment  ;  there  may  be  no  abatement,  but  rather  an 
io  crease  of  misery,  as  century  crowds  upon  century, 
till  imagination  fails  in  telling  up  the  period  ;  yet 
if  there  is  to  break  upon  him  a  moment  of  deliver 
ance,  to  be  succeeded  by  an  eternity  of  rest  and 
joy,  it  is  good  for  him  that  he  has  been  born.  At 
whatever  point  his  sufferings  may  terminate,  there 
will  remain  for  him  an  immeasurably  longer  season 
for  the  enjoyment  of  happiness,  than  had  been  con 
sumed  in  his  agony,  which  will  make  him  feel  that 
the  boon  of  existence  demands  from  him  the  most 
glowing  gratitude.  If  perdition  is  to  be  but  tem 
porary,  and  the  gates  of  the  eternal  prison-house, 
which  close  upon  the  lost,  are  ever  to  be  thrown 
open,  so  that  its  inmates  may  go  free,  every  one  of 
them  will  feel  so.  I  care  not  what  may  have  been 
a  man's  misdoings  and  sufferings  upon  the  earth, 
his  life  may  have  been  uncheered  by  a  single 
smile,  his  history  may  have  been  but  one  black 
and  biting  calamity,  he  may  have  gone  down  an 
accursed  thing  to  the  pit  of  despair,  a  period  which 


CONSEQUENCES   OF   A   WORLDLY   SPIRIT.         39*7 

we  cannot  compass,  may  have  been  spent  amid  the 
penal  fires  of  a  fierce  retribution,  yet  let  this  be 
the  close  of  the  appalling  tale,  that  he  is  emanci 
pated,  his  crimes  are  purged  away,  his  vast  debt 
cancelled,  and  I  am  sure,  in  view  of  the  well-known 
principles  of  human  nature,  that  as  he  sees  an  eter 
nity  of  peace  opening  brightly  before  him,  he  will 
join  as  cheerfully  and  as  loudly  as  any  in  the  words 
of  the  general  thanksgiving,  "  We  bless  thee  for 
our  creation."  It  is  telling  me,  then,  that  sorrow 
is  to  be  eternal,  to  tell  me  of  a  man,  that  "  it  had 
been  good  for  him  if  he  had  never  been  born." 

And  now,  my  brethren,  if  we  have  the  meaning 
of  our  Saviour's  proposition  distinctly  before  us, 
let  us  turn  our  attention  to  another  question,  Where 
does  it  apply  ?  How  far  does  it  reach  ? 

If  we  should  confine  the  sentiment  of  my  text 
strictly  to  the  immediate  connections  in  which  the 
Master  has  placed  it,  no  one,  perhaps,  would  ques 
tion  its  propriety.  We  have  such  an  estimate  of 
the  character  of  Judas  Iscariot,  that  we  think  no 
punishment  too  severe  for  him;  while  there  are 
other  forms  of  wickedness,  in  reference  to  which 
we  do  not  hesitate  to  say  of  the  man  who  mani 
fests  them,  that  annihilation  would  be  the  greatest 
blessing  God  could  send  him.  But  I  feel  that  in  the 
sentiments  I  am  about  to  advance,  I  shall  go  far 
beyond  the  ordinary  apprehensions,  and  come  into 
collision  with  the  feelings  of  the  majority ;  but 
I  design  only  to  walk  in  the  light  which  Jesus 
Christ  has  shed  upon  my  pathway,  and  in  doing  so 
I  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  if  the  proposition  of 


398        CONSEQUENCES    OF    A   WOELDLY   SPIRIT. 

my  text  is  justifiable  and  true  in  the  case  of  Judas 
Iscariot,  it  is  no  less  justifiable  and  true  in  the  case 
of  many  a  man  who  thinks  he  has  the  least  possible 
interest  in  it.  I  am  sure,  my  brethren,  that  we 
are  blinded  in  this  matter.  We  look  at  the  act, 
the  terrible  act,  the  damning  act  of  this  traitor, 
and  say  no  judgment  is  too  severe  for  him.  But 
what  was  that  act — what  character,  what  meaning 
had  it,  if  you  divorce  it  from  the  controlling  temper 
of  mind  which  it  served  to  develope.  In  a  moral 
point  of  view  it  is  nothing,  except  as  an  expression 
of  feeling ;  and  when  the  feeling  exists  and  controls 
one,  there  is  the  guilt,  though  its  outward  expres 
sion  may  be  constrained  and  regulated,  or  even 
prevented  by  independent  providential  circum 
stances  ;  precisely  as  in  the  eye  of  God,  he  who 
hateth  his  brother  is  as  truly  a  murderer  as  though 
he  had  imbrued  his  hands  in  his  blood.  Long  be 
fore  this  act  was  committed,  the  Master  called 
Judas  Iscariot  a  devil ;  he  was  a  devil  before  as 
really  as  after  he  had  given  his  master  the  trai 
torous  kiss. 

Be  not  startled  at  the  assertion  which  now  I 
make,  that  so  far  as  his  outward  life  was  concerned, 
in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  this  traitor  was  an  irre 
proachable  man.  The  Saviour  would  not  have  se 
lected  him,  the  other  disciples  could  not  have  asso 
ciated  with  him  if  he  had  been  otherwise.  They  who 
were  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  him  gave  him  their 
implicit  confidence.  He  had  won  upon  their  hearts, 
and  so  unsuspecting  was  their  trust,  that  they  did 
not  understand  their  Master's  reference  when  at 


CONSEQUENCES    OF   A    WORLDLY    SPIRIT.         399 

the  last  supper  lie  gave  Iscariot  the  sop,  thereby 
pointing  him  out  distinctly  as  his  betrayer.  Yet  he 
was  a  radically  ungodly  man,  because  his  control 
ling  spirit  was  an  inordinate  love  of  money.  This 
was  the  element  of  his  character ;  the  parent  of 
his  crime,  the  cause  of  his  doom. 

It  is  a  home  question  in  this  age  of  ours — I  know 
it — are  there  none  like  him  ?  When  you  see  a 
man  all  of  whose  energies  are  consecrated  to  money, 
who  looks  upon  every  thing  and  determines  the 
value  of  every  thing  in  view  of  its  relation  to  this 
one  object,  who  is  dead  to  all  claims  but  those 
which  it  enforces,  and  cares  not  what  interests  he 
sacrifices,  or  what  law,  divine  or  human,  he  tramples 
under  foot  in  obeying  them,  how  far  think  you 
does  he  stand  in  the  eye  of  God  below  Judas  Is 
cariot  in  the  scale  of  moral  character  ? 

Or,  when  you  see  a  man  who  will  break  through 
no  restraints,  who  will  sacrifice  no  private  interests, 
who  will,  so  far  as  his  outward  life  is  concerned, 
subject  himself  to  no  penal  enactments  of  civil  law, 
yet  will  descend  to  plans  from  which  an  honorable 
spirit  will  recoil ;  will  be  mean,  if  not  dishonest ; 
degrade  himself,  though  he  will  not  break  the 
statute ;  will  act  upon  any  principle,  and  embark 
in  any  plan,  legalized  by  custom,  or  uncondernned 
by  the  world,  however  contrary  it  may  be  to  the 
spirit  of  the  gospel,  or  destructive  to  the  interests 
and  hopes  of  his  soul ;  who  will  act  upon  a  large 
scale,  though  in  a  different  form,  upon  the  same  prin 
ciples,  which  viewed  as  the  life  and  spirit  of  the 


400        CONSEQUENCES    OF   A    WOKLDLY   SPIRIT. 

gaming  table  are  odious  and  detestable,  where  will 
you  place  Mm  ? 

Bear  with  me  a  moment  while  I  cease  from  par 
ticulars,  and  present  a  general  principle,  which 
every  man  may  apply  for  himself.  I  am  not  afraid, 
at  all,  of  being  classed  with  those  who  are  eter 
nally  crying  down  wealth,  and  who  speak  of  the 
possession  of  riches  as  synonymous  with  certain  per 
dition.  My  hearers  know  me  too  well  to  suppose 
me  guilty  of  that  wholesale  declamation,  which 
originating  rather  in  carnality  than  in  grace,  evin 
ces  the  ignorance,  more  than  the  wisdom  of  its  au 
thors.  Biches  have  their  use,  but  there  is  a  point 
of  possession  beyond  which,  if  a  man  go,  they  are 
useless ;  destitute  of  intrinsic  worth,  and  valuable 
only  on  account  of  the  purposes  to  which  they  may 
be  applied.  "When  a  man  reaches  that  point,  where 
through  inability  or  indisposition,  they  are  not 
made  subservient  to  useful  ends,  they  are  worse 
than  valueless.  Now  I  am  perfectly  aware  that 
my  principle  takes  a  wide  sweep,  but  in  view  of 
these  general  premises  it  seems  to  be  unquestiona 
ble.  When  a  man  has  no  other  object  than  simply  to 
make  money,  when  he  has  more  than  he  can,  or 
which  is  the  same  thing,  is  willing  to  apply  to  useful 
purposes ;  when  his  whole  ambition  is  to  see  how 
many  pieces  of  stamped  metal  he  can  gather  to 
gether  and  call  his  own  ;  when  he  has  no  ultimate 
purpose  in  view,  but  his  desires  terminate  upon  pro 
perty  for  its  own  sake,  I  care  not  who  he  may  be, 
what  his  outward  exhibitions  of  character,  or  what 
his  visible  relations,  he  is  under  the  influence  of  the 


CONSEQUENCES    OF    A    WOELDLY    SPIEIT.         401 

same  spirit,  winch  as  it  controlled  a  false  disciple, 
led  the  Redeemer  to  the  ignominy  and  death  of  the 
cross ;  and  we  can  say  of  him  without  hesitation,  if  he 
lives  and  dies  under  its  power,  "  it  had  been  better 
for  him  if  he  had  never  been  born" — for  such  a  man 
has  lost  the  control  of  himself,  he  has  thrown  the  reins 
upon  the  neck  of  a  degrading  worldly  passion,  and 
he  cannot  tell  what  developments  of  character  he 
yet  may  make.  He  is  rushing  forward  blindfolded 
in  his  course,  and  knows  not  where  he  may  stum 
ble,  and  over  what  he  may  fall ;  and  if  left  entirely 
to  himself,  unrestrained  by  independent  influences, 
untrammelled  and  unconfmed  by  any  outward  cir 
cumstances,  he  will  trample  upon  every  thing,  and 
sacrifice  every  thing  upon  the  altar  of  his  unholy 
ambition.  We  will  not,  however,  restrict  our  prin 
ciple  ;  we  extend  it  to  earthly  ambition,  whatever 
may  be  the  peculiar  form  of  its  manifestation,  or 
the  object  it  contemplates.  The  love  of  money  is 
not  the  only  human  passion  which  blinds  the  mind, 
and  wars  against  the  kingdom  of  God  and  the  in 
terests  of  the  human  soul.  Any  earthly  lust,  if  it 
gains  the  complete  ascendancy,  and  mounts  the 
throne,  as  the  governing  principle  of  the  mind,  will 
do  precisely  the  same  thing.  If  the  love  of  power, 
or  the  love  of  pleasure,  had  been  as  rampant  in  the 
soul  of  Judas  Iscariot,  he  would  have  betrayed  his 
Master  at  the  bidding  of  either,  as  certainly  as  he 
betrayed  him  at  the  bidding  of  his  love  of  money. 
It  makes  no  difference  what  a  man's  controlling 
spirit  may  be,  if  it  is  purely  worldly  and  sensual, 
and  at  war  with  God's  commandments,  it  must 
26 


402        CONSEQUENCES    OF   A   WOELDLY   SPIRIT. 

be  broken,  subdued,  eradicated,  or  the  man  is  ru 
ined,  lost  for  time  and  lost  for  eternity.  It  is  diffi 
cult,  I  know,  to  commend  this  truth  to  the  minds 
of  those  who  are  specially  interested.  The  slave 
of  his  passions  will  not  believe  either  in  the  wick 
edness  of  the  dominion  to  which  he  subjects  himself 
or  in  the  fear  of  any  dangerous  results.  And 
when  Judas  Iscariot  attached  himself  to  his  Mas 
ter,  and  began  his  career  of  embezzlement,  as  he 
gave  full  scope  to  his  controlling  temper,  he  never 
dreamed  of  the  results ;  he  had  no  conception  of  the 
issues  to  which  it  would  lead  him.  He  would 
have  treated  as  an  idle  tale,  the  prediction  which 
should  have  shewn  him  'going  to  the  chief 
priests  to  barter  away  his  Master's  liberty  for 
thirty  pieces  of  silver.  It  is  the  characteristic  of  all 
sinful  passions,  that  they  blind  the  minds  of  their 
victims  to  their  nature  and  their  tendencies. 
"  Is  thy  servant  a  dog  ?"  said  Hazael,  as  the 
prophet  Elisha  foretold  him  of  the  horrid  cruel 
ties  of  which  he  would  be  guilty  when  he 
came  to  be  king  of  Syria.  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog 
that  he  should  do  this  thing  ?"  and  yet  as  Henry 
says,  "  the  dog  did  it ;"  and  let  a  man  give  himself 
up  to  the  control  of  any  passion,  whether  it  be  the 
love  of  money,  or  the  love  of  power,  or  the  love  of 
pleasure,  and  he  is  ripe  for  any  thing  which  his 
governing  spirit  may  demand  for  its  gratification ; 
he  will  perform  acts,  at  the  bare  mention  of  which 
his  soul  would  formerly  have  shuddered,  and  that 
without  compunction  and  without  remorse.  Nay, 
more  than  this,  he  may,  without  being  aware  of  it, 


CONSEQUENCES    OF   A    WORLDLY   SP1EIT.         403 

accumulate  upon  his  own  conscience,  a  guilt,  in  view 
of  which,  as  seen  resting  upon  another,  he  actually 
trembles.  Are  you  a  professing  Christian,  my 
hearer,  and  under  the  influence  of  some  temper 
hostile  to  the  spirit  and  requirements  of  the  Mas 
ter  ?  You  are  shocked  at  the  treachery  of  Judas 
Iscariot.  You  can  see  the  deep  defilement  of  his 
soul,  and  the  guilt  which  no  tears  of  repentance 
could  wash  away,  and  no  human  conscience  could 
bear,  and  the  thought  of  an  approximation  on  your 
part  to  such  a  fearful  criminality,  would  convulse 
your  soul  with  agony.  And  yet  it  may  be,  that  he 
who  seeth  not  as  man  seeth,  may  discover  in  you 
some  of  the  moral  lineaments  of  the  same  image, 
which  as  seen  in  Iscariot,  are  so  positively  frightful. 
I  have  never  betrayed  my  Master,  is  the  language 
of  many  a  carnal  and  worldly  disciple  who  is  living 
solely  for  the  purpose  of  compassing  some  ambi 
tious  views ;  and,  perhaps,  we  can  discover  the 
reason  why  he  has  not  done  so,  in  the  absence  of 
some  sufficiently  strong  temptation,  or  in  the  in 
fluence  of  some  outward  circumstances,  or  of  some 
commanding  earthly  interest ;  but  in  the  eye  of  him 
with  whom  principles  are  actions,  and  in  view  of 
whose  spiritual  government  the  wish  is  put  upon 
a  level  with  the  overt  act,  who  determines  the 
guilt  of  sin  not  from  its  actual  effects,  but  from  its 
tendencies  and  from  what  would  be  its  results  if 
circumstances  favoured  its  full  development ;  what 
difference  does  it  make  with  him  in  his  estimate  of 
character,  that  the  opportunity  of  crime  is  absent 
when  the  will  to  perpetrate  it  is  ascendant  in  the 


404        CONSEQUENCES   OF   A   WORLDLY   SPIRIT. 

soul  ?  The  spirit  of  Iscariot,  though  not  acted  out, 
stamps  the  soul  with  Iscariot's  guilt.  The  controlling 
temper  fixes  the  character ;  "  as  a  man  thinketh  in 
his  heart,  so  is  he." 

"  I  have  not,  oh !  I  could  not,  like  the  traitor, 
betray  my  Master."  To  the  man  who,  under  the 
confessed  dominion  of  a  worldly  spirit,  uses  this  lan 
guage  to  certify  his  innocence,  I  would  propound 
the  question,  Have  you  commended  him  to  those 
around  you  ?  Can  you  honestly  say,  that  in  your 
ardent  pursuit  of  the  world,  you  have  as  ardently 
pursued  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness  ? 
That  there  has  been  nothing  in  your  manifested 
character,  nothing  in  your  plans  and  enterprises 
originating  in,  matured,  and  carried  out  by  an 
absorbing  spirit  of  earthliness,  which  has  calum 
niated  the  gospel,  and  weakened  the  claims  of  your 
Master  in  view  of  others,  if  it  has  not  led  them  to 
trample  under  their  feet  the  religion  of  the  gospel  ? 
If  I  cannot  acquit  myself  in  view  of  such  inquiries, 
oh  !  surely  I  cannot  complain  if  I  am  put  on  a  par 
with  the  bribed  apostate,  as  one  who  in  prophetic 
language  has  "  wounded  Christ  in  the  house  of  his 
friends." 

Judas  Iscariot  was  "  the  son  of  perdition,"  and  I 
will  not  deny  that  his  crime  was  peculiarly  aggra 
vated  by  the  confidence  which  was  reposed  in  him, 
and  which  he  basely  betrayed.  We  should  be 
greatly  at  fault,  however,  if  we  supposed  that  this 
constituted  the  essence  of  his  sin.  If  I  understand 
his  crime,  it  was  a  sacrifice  of  his  Master  upon  the 
altar  of  his  unhallowed  ambition.  His  sole  purpose 


CONSEQUENCES    OF    A    WOELDLY    SPIEIT.        405 

was  to  gratify  Ms  love  of  money.    An  injury  to  hia 
Master,  so  far  from  entering  into  his  design,  was 
utterly  foreign  to  his  thoughts.    Precisely  like  him 
in   all  the  essential  ingredients  of  his  sin  is  every 
man  who  has  no  other  end  in  view  than  to  sub 
serve  some  worldly  or  sinful   desire ;   who  at    its 
bidding  can  throw  behind  him  all  a  Kedeerner's 
claims,  and  trample  on  all  a  Redeemer's  command 
ments.    No  !  no,  he  does  not  mean  to  injure  Christ, 
or  to  disparage  Christ's  claims ;  he  means  only  to 
gratify  his  own  desires,  and  if  he  cannot  do  the 
latter  without  doing  the  former,  he  will  do  both. 
This  is  the  spirit  of  which  Judas  Iscariot  was  but 
the  embodiment — are   there   none,   my  brethren, 
like  him  ?     Is  not  every  man  like  him  who  cannot 
be  religious,  because  religion  will  interfere  with 
some  of  his  plans  of  earthly  aggrandizement,  and 
call  him  to  sacrifice  some  of  his  earthly  desires  ? 
And  wherever  there  is  such  a  man,  and  this  spirit 
cannot  be  subdued,  "  It  had  been  better  for  him 
that  he  had  never  been  born."     There  is  no  parade 
of  words  nor  clustering  of  images  in  this  language 
in  which  Christ  sets  forth  the  doom  of  uncrucified 
carnality.     And  yet,  while  it  is  perfectly  simple, 
there  is  not  a  human  being  who  dares  to  grapple 
with  the  representation,  or  is  equal  to  the  task  of 
unfolding  its   meaning.     The   futurity  which  will 
furnish  the  explanation  is  all  midnight.     The  eye  of 
the  soul  which  enters  upon  it  will  open  upon  dark 
ness.     God,  who  is  all  light,  is  before  it ;  but  it  is 
darkness.     Eternity,  that  unbroken  day  in  which 
there  are  no  sunsets,  is  before  it,  and  yet  it  is  dark- 


406         CONSEQUENCES    OF   A   WOKLDLY   SPIRIT. 

ness  ;  it  is  all  fire,  yet  all  darkness ;  a  flame  which 
consumes  but  never  illuminates.  My  brethren,  if 
ye  have  not  sacrificed  all  for  Christ,  the  dark 
mountains  upon  which  you  will  stumble  and  fall 
are  before  you.  If  you  would  look,  you  might 
already  see  them  in  your  horizon,  like  iron  masses 
covered  with  sackcloth.  Oh  !  give  yourselves 
speedily  to  Christ,  and  then  with  new  hearts  and 
a  right  spirit  you  will  see  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
which  has  not  yet  gone  down  in  your  firmament, 
skirting  the  edge  of  that  black  rampart  with  beams 
of  gold ;  and  then,  as  despair  gives  way  to  hope,  in 
stead  of  lifting  up  the  wail,  "Oh!  that  we  had 
never  been  born,"  you  will  be  able  to  raise  the 
rapturous  shout,  "  "We  bless  thee,  O  God,  for  our 
creation."  It  will  be  with  you  hereafter,  as  now 
you  love  the  world  or  the  Saviour  most. 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT ;  OR,  THE  POWER  OF  CONSCIENCE. 


"  Then  Judas,  which  had  betrayed  him,  when  he  saw  that  he  was 
condemned,  repented  himself,  and  brought  again  the  thirty  pieces  of 
silver  to  the  chief  priests  and  elders,  saying,  I  have  sinned  in  that  I 
have  betrayed  the  innocent  blood." — MATTHEW  xxvii.  3,  4. 

IT  is  not  among  the  least  interesting  facts  which 
this  passage  brings  to  our  notice,  that  the  betrayer 
of  his  Master  could  not  possibly  become  his  ac 
cuser  ;  that  he  who  could  be  prevailed  upon  by 
bribery  to  play  the  traitor,  could  not  in  any  way 
be  induced  to  testify  against  him  whom  he  had 
surrendered  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  Nay, 
more  than  this,  he  is  constrained  to  publish  his 
own  infamy  in  witnessing  to  his  Master's  innocence 
It  would  have  been  a  great  gain  to  the  chief  priest 
and  rulers  of  the  Jews,  could  they  by  any  means 
have  wrung  from  one  of  the  intimate  associates  of 
Christ,  any  thing  respecting  his  character  and  de 
signs,  upon  the  ground  of  which  they  might  have 
proceeded  against  him  as  a  malefactor  or  disturber 
of  the  public  peace.  They  who  gave  thirty  pieces 
of  silver  to  secure  his  person,  would  unquestiona 
bly  have  given  much  more  for  evidence  to  justify 


* 

408  THE   POWER    OF   CONSCIENCE. 

their  procedures  against  him  ;  and  he  who  was  base 
enough  to  betray  him,  we  should  naturally  sup 
pose  base  enough  to  play  into  their  hands,  even  if 
he  should  be  compelled  to  do  so  at  the  expense  of 
truth. 

Now  you  perceive  that  we  might  take  advantage 
of  this  fact,  to  set  before  you  one  of  the  most  logi 
cal  and  conclusive  demonstrations  of  Christ's  truth 
and  righteousness,  which  can  possibly  be  con 
structed.  Judas  Iscariot  was  one  of  the  Re 
deemer's  most  intimate  associates,  and  must  have 
been  well  acquainted  with  his  private  acts.  If 
Christ,  therefore,  had  been  a  deceiver,  and  per 
formed  his  miracles  by  collusion,  the  traitor  must 
have  known  the  deception,  and  this  would,  at  least, 
have  relieved  his  self-condemnation  and  remorse. 
But  it  is  perfectly  evident  that  the  galling  thing  to 
the  mind  of  the  betrayer,  was  the  full  conviction 
of  his  Master's  innocence.  Had  he  known  any 
thing  to  the  contrary,  oh !  surely,  in  self-justifica 
tion,  he  would  have  told  it;  or  even  should  he 
have  kept  it  to  himself,  (a  supposition  very  un 
natural,)  its  knowledge  would  have  preserved  for 
him  a  comparative  quiet,  or  at  least  saved  him 
from  suicide.  Such  is  a  mere  outline  of  the  argu 
ment,  the  more  valuable  because  it  is  indirect. 

It  is  not,  however,  to  this  point  that  we  turn 
your  attention  this  morning. .  The  question  which 
will  open  the  subject  upon  which  we  design  to  dis 
course,  relates  to  the  wondrous  influence  which 
constrained  the  mind  of  the  traitor,  not  only  pre 
venting  him  from  giving  testimony  against  his 


THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  409 

Master,  but  wringing  from  him  reluctant  evidence 
in  his  favour.  It  was  not  the  baseness  of  perjury 
which  deterred  him,  for  a  man  who  could  with 
cool  and  calm  deliberation  break  such  obligations 
as  those  which  bound  Judas  to  the  Redeemer,  was 
equal  to  any  wickedness,  however  great.  It  was 
not  earthly  interest  which  deterred  him ;  for  in  an 
earthly  point  of  view,  he  had  better  have  carried 
the  matter  through,  than  have  committed  suicide. 
We  must  look,  therefore,  for  an  exponent  of  his 
conduct  to  some  unseen  influence  which  swayed  his 
mind,  an  influence  well  nigh  omnipotent;  and 
what  could  it  have  been  but  the  simple  influence 
of  conscience?  The  acting  of  conscience,  then,  as 
seen  in  the  history  of  this  man,  shall  furnish  us 
with  our  subject  this  morning,  while  we  attempt 
to  gather  up  some  of  the  lessons  which  this  history 
furnishes,  and  impress  them  upon  our  minds. 

There  are  three  lights  in  which  we  look  at  Judas 
Iscariot,  each  furnishing  us  with  its  distinct  doc 
trine  upon  the  subject  of  conscience.  We  see  him 
wrought  up  into  agony  by  some  mysterious  influ 
ence  which  derives  its  meaning  and  power  from 
the  future.  We  hear  him  acknowledging  the 
truth.  We  find  him  stripped  of  every  thing  like 
an  apology  for  his  crime,  and  we  thus  reach  the 
following  views :  Conscience,  the  herald  of  the 
future ;  conscience,  the  advocate  of  truth ;  con 
science,  an  answer  to  every  excuse  for  transgres 
sion.  An  exhibition  of  these  views  will  accom 
plish  iny  design. 

I.  I  am  perfectly  aware,  my  brethren,  that  there 


410  THE   POWEK   OF   CONSCIENCE. 

have  "been  advanced,  in  behalf  of  this  inward  mon 
itor,  claims  which  never  can  be  made  good.  At 
tributes  have  been  ascribed  to  it  which  it  never 
possessed,  and  its  powers  have  been  enlarged 
and  magnified,  to  an  extent  far  surpassing  any 
thing  which  facts  will  warrant.  The  advocates  of 
mere  natural  religion,  have  used  it  as  an  argument 
against  the  necessity  of  the  Bible,  by  putting  it  in 
the  place,  and  making  it  subserve  all  the  purposes 
of  a  special  revelation  from  God.  While  we  can 
not  sympathize  at  all  with  this  position  concerning 
it,  yet  when  we  find  how  accurately  it  distinguishes 
between  right  and  wrong,  how  solemn  and  impress 
ive  are  the  warnings  which  it  utters  against  the 
commission  of  the  one,  and  how  delightful  is  the 
sense  of  satisfaction  connected  with  the  doing  of 
the  other,  we  cannot  but  feel  that  its  subject  so  far 
carries  about  with  him  teachings  from  heaven,  that 
you  cannot  predicate  of  him  an  entire  ignorance  of 
the  will  of  God,  and  of  the  consequences  of  obe 
dience  and  disobedience.  For  this  is  the  peculiarity 
which  distinguishes  conscience  from  every  other 
faculty  of  the  mind — that  it  takes  hold  upon  the 
hopes  and  fears  of  another  life,  and  works  with 
them  as  its  instruments.  Its  power  over  the  soul 
springs  from  anticipation — the  element  of  its  re 
ward  is  hope — the  element  of  its  punishment  is 
fear.  Its  reward  is  thus  the  expectation  of  reward ; 
its  punishment  the  expectation  of  punishment.  In 
proportion  as  a  man  can  blind  himself  to  the  reali 
ties  of  the  future,  he  can  neutralize  its  influence  ; 
and  if  he  could  work  himself  up,  by  any  means  to 


THE   POWEE    OF   CONSCIENCE.  411 

a  state  of  total  unbelief  as  to  a  coming  world,  lie 
would  be  an  entire  stranger  to  all  its  inflictions. 
Hence  it  is,  that  atheism  and  infidelity  resolve  the 
influence  of  conscience  into  superstitious  fears — an 
explanation  unworthy  of  a  thinking  mind,  putting 
as  it  does  the  effect  for  the  cause ;  the  fears  of 
which  they  speak  as  originating  conscience  admit 
ting  of  no  solution  but  one  which  brings  in  conscience 
as  their  source.  Hence  they  reason  perpetually  in 
a  circle,  explaining  conscience  by  man's  unfounded 
fears,  and  man's  unfounded  fears  by  conscience ; 
thus  assuming  every  thing  and  proving  nothing, 
Every  man  is  a  witness  to  himself  of  the  truth  of 
my  general  position ;  for  as  all  have  been  subjects 
of  the  approval  of  conscience,  when  they  have 
hearkened  to  its  voice,  and  have  suffered  in  conse 
quence  of  their  resistance  to  its  dictates,  they  carry 
the  evidence  within  them  that  it  draws  its  re 
sources  not  from  the  present  but  from  the  future, 
and  acts  upon  men  by  hope  and  by  fear ;  and  if  so, 
then  it  preaches  beyond  all  contradiction  and  all 
question,  another  state  of  being ;  a  state  of  retri 
bution,  in  which  the  Supreme  moral  Governor  will 
recompense  actions  wrought  on  the  earth.  It  is  thus 
that  we  explain  the  experience  of  Judas.  There  was 
nothing  in  present  circumstances  to  harm  him. 
Would  the  men  in  whose  hands  he  had  played, 
wreak  their  vengeance  upon  one  who  had  become 
their  co-worker,  and  had  afforded  them  such  signal 
assistance  in  accomplishing  their  designs  ?  His  Mas 
ter  was  now  subject  to  his  enemies  ;  the  traitor  saw 
his  condemnation  certain,  and  he  could  fear  nothing 


412  THE   POWER   OF   CONSCIENCE. 

from  one  whose  tongue  was  shortly  to  be  palsied, 
and  whose  limbs  were  shortly  to  be  stiffened  in 
death.  No,  it  was  remorse  which  now  preyed  upon 
him — remorse  springing  from  the  apprehended  cer 
tain  connection  between  the  past  and  present,  and 
the  future.  It  was  conscience,  making  every  event 
the  herald  of  judgment,  and  every  shadow  the 
minister  of  retribution.  He  could  almost  read  the 
record  of  his  crime,  made  by  one  who  would  not 
let  it  pass  unavenged  ;  and  though  he  had  gained 
what  he  coveted,  and  held  in  his  hands  the  wages 
of  unrighteousness  with  which  he  meant  to  satisfy 
his  avaricious  soul,  there  was  a  boding  form,  unseen 
by  others,  yet  flitting  distinctly  before  his  mind, 
which  no  enchantment  could  will,  and  no  menace 
force  from  the  scene.  And  thus  he  was  a  witness 
to  himself,  as  are  all  others,  in  their  wrong  doing, 
witnesses  to  themselves,  that  this  world  is  under  the 
government  of  a  God  who  may  allow  wickedness 
for  a  time  to  be  successful,  yet  gives  a  boding  of 
judgment,  and  an  earnest  of  retribution  in  the 
dread  imagery  of  wrath  which  conscience  arrays 
before  the  spirit. 

It  is  worthy  of  observation  here  that  these  act 
ings  of  conscience  are  perfectly  independent ;  they 
are  not  the  fruits  of  reasoning,  they  spring  from  no 
logic,  they  result  from  no  lengthened  investigation 
into  the  propriety  and  fitness  of  things.  Men  may 
reason  in  order  to  stifle  conviction,  they  may  ex 
cite  their  passions  into  a  storm,  in  order  to  drown 
its  voice,  but  this  is  after  its  testimony  has  been 
given ;  they  can  do  nothing  beforehand  to  prevent 


THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  413 

that  testimony.  Unlike  those  propositions  which 
result  from  reasoning,  the  verdict  of  conscience 
does  not  knock  at  the  door  of  the  mind,  and  sue 
for  admittance ;  conscience  is  part  of  the  mind 
itself,  and  acts  within,  bidden  or  unbidden.  If  it 
were  otherwise,  and  we  had  to  make  out  the  being 
of  a  God,  and  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  pun 
ishments,  by  a  process  of  rational  deduction,  man 
might  meet  argument  by  argument,  and  proof  by 
proof,  and  contend,  and  equivocate,  and  practice  a 
thousand  subtleties  to  get  rid  of  the  force  of  evi 
dence.  But  it  is  not  so ;  for  when  conscience  speaks 
there  is  no  room  for  evasion,  no  room  for  subtle 
ties  ;  conscience  in  reality  is  the  commencement  of 
judgment  itself;  and  what  quibble,  or  equivocation, 
or  argument  can  stand  before  a  plain  fact  ? 

And  thus  it  is  that  every  man  who  does  wrong 
and  fears  the  consequences  (and  no  man  can  di 
vorce  such  wrong  doing  from  such  fears,)  carries 
within  him  evidence  which  he  cannot  overthrow 
or  gainsay  to  the  being  of  God,  and  the  retributive 
character  of  his  moral  government.  I  care  not  who 
he  may  be,  or  what  may  be  his  pretensions ;  he 
may  tell  me  that  he  does  not  believe  in  God ;  he 
may  tell  me  that  he  sees  no  evidence  of  his  exist 
ence  in  the  traces  of  design  which  are  every  where 
stamped  upon  the  works  of  nature  ;  but  there  is  a 
voice  whose  testimony  to  this  fact  rings  in  his  own 
bosom,  and  while  conscience  speaks,  and  the  fore 
bodings  of  wrath  keep  company  with  unrepented 
and  unforsaken  transgression,  and  the  path  of  him 
who  goes  on  in  the  way  of  evil  is  crossed  and  re- 


414  THE   POWEB   OF   CONSCIENCE. 

crossed  by  images  of  woe  and  desolation,  though 
you  should  shut  up  the  Bible,  and  blot  out  from 
the  universe  of  created  things  every  thing  which 
tells  us  of  a  God  mindful  of  the  works  of  his  hands, 
still  there  would  be  proof  enough  left  that  we  live 
under  the  government  of  a  ruler  who  is  the  avenger 
of  wickedness ;  and  not  a  subject  of  that  govern 
ment  could  ever,  in  view  of  his  experience,  plead 
ignorance  in  extenuation  of  crime, 

II.  Now,  if  we  have  made  good  our  first  position, 
which  presents  conscience  as  an  evidence  of  our 
accountability  and  future  existence,  we  proceed 
another  step  in  our  illustration,  to  ascertain  the 
bearing  of  its  testimony  upon  other  questions  of 
truth  and  duty.  The  world  in  which  we  live 
is  full  of  error,  both  of  principle  and  practice,  and 
we  cannot  but  admire  the  pertinacity  with  which 
men  will  often  cling  to  falsehood,  and  the  ingenuity 
with  which  they  will  reason  out  its  defence.  We 
question  very  strongly  whether  man  is  ever,  in  the 
first  instance,  brought  intelligently  to  the  adoption 
of  error,  or  can  ever  adduce  evidence  in  its  favour 
which  will  perfectly,  in  all  circumstances,  satisfy 
his  own  mind.  Where  a  man's  opinions  are 
purely  speculative,  relating  merely  to  questions  of 
natural  science,  we  do  not  mean  to  say  that  his 
errors,  necessarily,  involve  moral  delinquency.  He 
may  be  too  hasty  in  his  conclusions,  or  deduce 
his  results  from  an  imperfect  or  partial  examination 
of  facts ;  we  may  doubt  his  wisdom,  and  withhold 
our  confidence  in  his  judgment,  without  throwing 
any  imputation  upon  his  heart ;  but  it  is  vastly  dif- 


THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  415 

ferent  with,  moral  questions.  Here,  in  all  cases 
where  the  means  of  arriving  at  a  knowledge  of  the 
truth  are  possessed,  the  advocacy  of  error  of  opinion 
is  usually  associated  with  depraved  inclinations, 
which  call  for  falsehood  in  their  justification.  It  is, 
I  am  aware,  a  startling  doctrine  that  which  I  now 
advocate,  that  sin  or  vice,  in  some  form,  is  the  pa 
rent  of  wrong  moral  principles  ;  that  man  does  not 
become  an  Atheist,  a  Deist,  or  an  enemy  of  any 
cardinal  doctrine  of  revealed  truth,  except  as  de 
praved  inclination  makes  it  one's  interest  that  there 
should  be  no  God,  and  no  revelation.  And  the 
evidence  of  my  doctrine  is  found  in  this,  that  almost 
all  errors  of  this  kind,  however  boldly  they  may 
be  put  forth  as  purely  rational  truths,  however 
long  they  may  have  been  held,  however  pertina 
ciously  and  skilfully  they  may  have  been  defended, 
give  way  at  once  to  the  influence  of  conscience. 
And  yet  conscience  has  not  to  do  directly  with  opi 
nions,  but  only  with  practice,  and  with  opinions  as 
they  spring  from,  or  are  necessarily  connected  with 
practice.  Conscience  never  will  set  a  man  right  in 
his  purely  theoretical  views  on  many  subjects ;  it 
will  never  expose  his  errors  in  astronomy,  or  physi 
ology,  or  natural  or  simply  intellectual  science ;  but 
let  him  adopt  a  radically  false  principle  in  morals, 
and  he  cannot  hold  it  a  moment  when  conscience 
begins  powerfully  to  act.  It  shews  him  the  error 
of  his  opinions  by  rebuking  the  sinful  desires  or 
plans  in  which  such  opinions  originate.  I  know 
not  what  principles  Judas  Iscariot  may  have 
adopted  as  his  principles  of  action  while  he  was 


416  THE   POWER   OF   CONSCIENCE. 

carrying  on  his  designs  against  Ms  Master.  He 
must,  however,  have  had  some  distinctly  formed 
views  under  the  influence  of  which  he  thought  he 
might,  in  his  circumstances,  go  forward  properly, 
or  at  least  safely ;  and  yet  no  sooner  does  the  emer 
gency  arise  which  awakens  conscience,  than  all  his 
finely  arranged  theories  are  completely  blown 
away,  and  a  single  rebuke  of  this  inward  monitor 
furnishes  a  complete  refutation  of  all  his  unan 
swerable  arguments. 

There  is  a  parallel,  and  if  any  thing,  a  more 
strongly  marked  case,  illustrative  of  our  general 
idea,  given  in  the  history  of  Herod,  the  Tetrarch 
of  Galilee,  and  murderer  of  John  the  Baptist.  No 
sooner  did  the  fame  of  Christ  spread  abroad,  than 
Herod,  however  unwilling  to  be  disturbed  again 
by  the  presence  of  a  prophet,  yet  knowing  that 
there  was  a  worker  of  miracles  abroad  in  the  land, 
was  constrained  to  express  an  opinion  concerning 
him ;  and  of  all  opinions,  none  could  be  more  in 
consistent  with  his  professed  faith.  "  It  is  John," 
said  he,  "  whom  I  have  beheaded :  he  is  risen  from 
the  dead."  Now  by  what  process  of  reasoning 
could  he  reach  such  a  conclusion?  Where  was 
the  apparent  likelihood  that  Jesus  Christ  was  John 
the  Baptist  ?  What  conespondence  was  there  be 
tween  Jesus  working  miracles,  and  John  who 
wrought  no  miracles?  Herod,  moreover,  was  a 
Sadducee,  and  according  to  his  professed  creed, 
death  was  the  end  of  man ;  there  is  no  resurrec 
tion,  no  angel,  no  spirit.  How,  then,  came  Herod 
to  advance  an  opinion  in  such  direct  opposition  to 


THE   POWEK    OF    CONSCIENCE. 

his  professed  creed  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  in  the 
midst  of  his  voluptuousness,  this  corrupt  prince 
had  been  re-examining  the  articles  of  his  faith,  and 
as  a  result  of  such  new  examination,  was  renounc 
ing  as  erroneous,  doctrines  which  he  formerly  held 
as  true  ?  Had  he  been  studying  the  law  and  the 
prophets,  think  you,  analyzing  the  arguments  in 
favour  of  the  soul's  immortality  and  the  body's 
resurrection,  and  in  view  of  the  evidence  which 
flashed  upon  his  mind,  had  he  come  to  a  conclusion 
which  completely  overthrew  every  article  of  what 
he  once  considered  his  rational  faith  ?  How  was  it 
that  the  marvellous  stories  which  came  to  his  ears 
concerning  the  wonder  working  of  Jesus  Christ, 
wrought  such  an  entire  revolution  in  all  his  theo 
retical  opinions  ?  How  but  by  starting  conscience, 
which,  when  once  awaked,  raised  the  spectre  of  the 
murdered  John,  and  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
hide  from  his  view  his  dreadful  guilt,  under  the 
pressure  of  which  he  could  no  longer  hold  his  false 
principles?  He  had  probably  never  reasoned  at 
all  about  the  doctrines  of  his  creed ;  like  most 
other  errorists,  he  had  taken  them  for  granted,  be 
cause  they  suited  his  inclinations ;  it  was  marvel 
lously  convenient  for  him  to  disbelieve  in  futurity, 
in  a  resurrection,  and  a  judgment  to  come,  because 
his  vices  made  it  desirable  that  he  should  perish 
with  the  brute.  But  no  sooner  did  conscience  be 
gin  to  act,  than  all  his  speculations  or  hopes 
vanish,  and  Herod  trembles  in  view  of  that  futu 
rity  at  which  he  was  wont  to  smile,  and  that  judg 
ment  to  come,  which  he  had  been  wont  to  think 
27 


418  THE    POWEK    OF    CONSCIENCE. 

was  nothing  but  a  dream.  We  put,  then,  Herod 
in  company  with  Judas  Iscariot,  as  shewing  how 
completely  conscience  can  refute  all  the  false  rea 
sonings  of  a  sinful  mind,  and,  therefore,  evidence 
of  this  truth,  which  men  seldom  "believe,  that  when 
man  arrays  himself  against  any  plain,  essential  doc 
trine  of  God's  word,  he  has  not  in  reality  a  particle 
of  confidence  in  one  of  the  positions  he  assumes. 

And  it  is  precisely  so,  my  brethren,  with  every 
one  whose  depraved  inclinations  lead  him  to  the 
adoption  or  advocacy  of  error.  A  man  may  blind 
his  power  of  perception,  and  pervert  his  under 
standing,  but  he  never  can  permanently  stifle  his 
conscience  with  bad  logic.  While  his  circum 
stances  are  such  as  do  not  put  his  theory  to  the 
proof,  he  may,  perhaps,  succeed  by  his  ingenuity  in 
maintaining  error.  But  whenever  conscience  re 
bukes  him,  or  he  is  called  to  any  great  risk  on  the 
strength  of  his  opinion,  his  agitation  will  show  that 
he  has  no  confidence  in  it,  and  in  the  course  he 
pursues  he  will  positively  contradict  his  professed 
faith.  Every  day,  every  hour,  is  heaving  into 
being  illustrations  of  the  general  remark.  We 
have  upon  record  the  fact  of  atheists,  in  an  hour  of 
peril,  forgetful  of  their  avowed  system,  calling  for 
help  upon  God,  whom  they  had,  as  they  thought, 
reasoned  out  of  existence.  Place  such  a  man  in 
circumstances  of  danger,  in  the  midst  of  peril- 
stricken  companions,  and  do  you  tell  me  that  he 
will  look  with  cool  contempt  upon  the  agitation  of 
his  fellows,  and  preach  atheism  to  them  in  the 
midst  of  their  terrors  ?  or  will  he  not,  sympathizing 


THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  419 

with  them  in  their  fears,  join  them  in  supplicating 
in  the  tempest,  the  Deity  whom  he  denied  in  the 
calm  ?  Yes,  and  we  have  not  only  heard  of,  we 
have  seen  men  on  their  death-beds,  who  during 
their  whole  lives  had  treated  the  religion  of  the 
gospel  as  a  fable,  calling  vehemently  upon  Christ 
for  forgiveness,  as  though  their  theories  gave  way 
when  the  soul  came  to  be  separated  from  the  body. 
And  it  was  not  reason  that  silenced  their  argu 
ments,  nor  any  external  evidence  which  produced 
such  deep  conviction  of  error.  It  was  nothing  but 
conscience,  which  all  along  had  been  gently  whis 
pering  remonstrances,  and  was  only  waiting  the 
opportunity  which  then  arrived,  of  giving  full  play 
to  its  terrors,  to  throw  to  the  winds  every  flimsy 
argument,  and  wring  from  the  man  a  contradiction 
of  himself.  Oh  !  it  is  wonderful,  this  power  of 
conscience,  whereby  it  extorts  from  one  a  denial  of 
those  doctrines  with  which  he  had  laboured  to  de 
ceive  others  and  himself,  and  forces  him  to  become 
a  witness  to  the  very  truth  he  had  endeavoured  to 
disprove  ;  and  as  every  man  possesses  this  attribute 
of  mind — I  care  not  who  he  may  be — how  astute 
a  reasoner,  if  he  becomes  an  advocate  of  error,  con 
science  will  prove  too  much  for  his  logic.  He  may 
suffer  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  any  of  the 
thousand  philosophical  speculations  which  go  to 
overthrow  the  testimony  of  the  Bible,  and  cut  men 
loose  from  its  restraints ;  he  may  think  himself  very 
rational  in  smiling  at  the  simple  verities  of  the 
word  of  God,  and  giving  himself  to  a  course  of 
life  which  those  verities  forbid;  but  while  we 


420  THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE. 

know  that  lie  can  only  smother  conscience,  but  can 
no  more  kill  it  than  he  can  annihilate  himself; 
we  know,  also,  that  there  is  a  time  coming,  when 
it  will  raise  itself  with  a  superhuman  might,  and 
preach  to  him,  and  compel  him.  to  preach  to 
others  the  doctrines  which  he  now  passes  by  in 
silence,  or  reprobates  with  scorn.  There  may  be 
no  prophet  in  the  land  armed  with  tremendous 
powers,  to  strike  terror  into  those  whose  creeds 
have  been  found  to  patronize  their  sins,  yet  when 
the  hour  of  peril  arrives,  or  the  dread  footstep  of 
approaching  death  is  heard,  then  conscience  will 
be  more  than  the  voice  of  any  earthly  prophet ; 
however  magnificent  his  endowments,  and  wither 
ing  his  demonstrations,  conscience  will  be  more  to 
awaken,  and  agitate,  and  confound  the  spirit  by 
bringing  up  to  view  contradicted  truth.  And  if 
any  man  who  rejects  the  gospel  and  adopts  error, 
tells  me  that  he  does  not  believe  in  this  energy  of 
conscience ;  that  his  faith  is  the  result  of  patient 
and  calm  investigation,  and  that  he  is  not  to  be 
disturbed  by  any  prophecy  of  conviction  and  ruin 
coming  together,  I  will  not  stop  to  reason  with 
him,  but  simply  remind  him,  that  he  carries  about 
with  him.  continually  a  power  precisely  like  that 
which  Judas  illustrated,  who,  when  he  saw  that 
Jesus  was  condemned,  threw  away  the  gains  of  his 
false  reasoning,  and  wicked  though  cunning  policy, 
confessed  his  iniquity,  and  died,  a  self-immolated 
witness  to  the  reality  and  power  of  conscience. 

III.    There  is  yet  another   view  we  are  called 
to  take  of  our  subject.     There  are  many  men  in 


THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  421 

our  world  perfectly  sound  in  their  principles,  who 
are  wholly  unsound  in  their  practice.     In  many  of 
the  courses  which  they  pursue,  they  can  but  feel, 
with  the  light  they  enjoy,  that  they  are  trampling 
under   foot  some   of  the    divine   commandments. 
And  they  differ  from  those  to  whom  we  have  al 
ready  alluded,  in  that,  while  the  latter  deny  or 
reason  away  the  principles  which  stand  in  opposi 
tion  to  their  desires,  the  former  admit  the  truth  of 
the  principles  themselves,  but  find  a  justification  of 
their  neglect  or  disobedience  of  them,  in  some  of 
their  peculiar  circumstances.     It  is  not  every  man, 
who  with  all  the  aid  a  sinful  and  deceitful  heart 
may  furnish,  is  able  to  work  himself  up   to   the 
adoption  of  speculative  atheism,  or  to  assume  the 
position  of  the  theoretical  skeptic.     The  testimony 
to  the  being  of  God,  which  is  seen  every  where 
upon    the   spreadings  of  creation,  and  to  the  re 
tributive   character  of  his   moral   administration, 
which  is  presented  in  the  daily  and  hourly  develop 
ments   of   Providence;    and   the  evidence    which 
throngs  around  this  revelation  of  truth,  is  too  clear, 
too  abundant,  too  conclusive  to  be  gainsay ed,  or 
set  aside  or  evaded — and  yet  there  is  many  a  man, 
who  admitting  the  being  of  God,  can  yet  find,  as 
he   thinks,  sufficient  reason  to  justify  his  disobe 
dience;  and  admitting   the  reality  of  the   gospel 
and  the  propriety  of  its  claims,  can  yet  justify  his 
rejection  of  them.     These  are  your  apologists  for 
acknowledged  transgression.    Set  their  impenitence 
and  their  sins  clearly  before  them,  and  you  need 
no  argument  to  demonstrate  their  impropriety  and 


422  THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE. 

guilt — they  are  confessed  at  once — and  yet  there 
are  not  wanting  extenuating  pleas.  Their  situation 
is  peculiar,  their  circumstances  are  peculiar,  their 
temptations  have  been  peculiarly  strong  and  try 
ing  ;  so  that,  what  they  can  but  confess  to  be  ab 
stractly  a  crime,  is  in  view  of  all  the  considerations 
they  can  adduce  in  their  case,  no  crime  at  all.  Ju 
das  Iscariot  was  unquestionably  a  very  plausible 
reasoner.  However  abandoned  we  may  consider 
him  to  have  been,  we  cannot  imagine  him  so  far 
lost  to  all  sense  of  right,  as  to  defend  treachery  to 
his  Master,  as  an  act  in  itself  proper ;  but  then,  he 
had  doubts  about  his  Master's  course.  He  felt  that 
Jesus  Christ  was  too  slow  in  his  movements,  that 
he  suffered  too  many  opportunities  to  pass,  of  which 
he  might  have  availed  himself,  to  establish  his 
claims  and  manifest  his  glory ;  he  was,  therefore, 
but  forcing  him  into  a  situation  where  no  possible 
harm  could  befal  him,  and  where  he  would  be  com 
pelled,  in  self-defence,  to  make,  as  he  easily  could, 
such  a  manifestation  of  his  character  as  would  com 
pletely  triumph  over  incredulity,  and  bear  down  all 
opposition.  Moreover,  if,  after  he  had  bargained 
with  the  chief  priests  and  rulers,  conscience  should 
smite  him,  he  felt  that  he  was  committed ;  he  had 
entered  into  engagements  which  were  binding  upon 
him,  and  which  he  could  not  innocently  violate. 
Very  much  in  the  same  way  Herod  the  tretrarch 
seems  to  have  reasoned.  He  felt  that  it  was  wrong 
to  murder  John  the  Baptist,  but  how  could  he  es  - 
cape  the  obligation  of  his  rash  and  inconsiderate 
oath  ?  His  wickedness,  therefore,  in  his  case,  was 


THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  423 

not  only  proper,  but  necessary.  Thus  "both  Judas  and 
Herod  extenuated  their  iniquities,  by  considering 
them  as  forced  upon  them  by  imperative  circumstan 
ces.  And  now  the  point  at  which  I  wish  you  to  look, 
is  this :  Conscience  is  too  good  a  casuist  to  admit  of 
any  such  apology.  In  both  of  these  cases,  conscience 
must  have  remonstrated,  though  its  subjects  were 
setting  flimsy  sophisms  against  the  imperious  sense 
of  right,  and  persuading  themselves  that  they  were 
acting  upon  good  and  sound  principles  in  what  they 
did.  But  it  required  only  some  unexpected  event, 
to  give  conscience  power  enough  to  demolish  the 
false  logic,  and  scare  the  guilty  by  a  full  exhibition 
of  the  atrociousness  of  their  crimes.  Hence,  when 
Herod  apprehended  danger,  he  did  not  fall  back 
upon  his  oath,  and  say  there  was  no  alternative, 
circumstances  were  imperative.  Judas,  when  he 
saw  that  Christ  was  condemned,  did  not  fall  back 
upon  his  intentions  and  declare  that  he  meant  right, 
and  aimed  only  at  good.  No !  truth  spake  out 
with  terrible  emphasis,  and  its  tone  and  tenor  made 
them  both  tremble ;  and  Herod  could  not  help 
looking  upon  Christ  as  an  avenger  of  his  crime, 
and  Judas,  under  the  weight  of  conscious  guilt, 
went  and  hanged  himself. 

And  precisely  like  them,  in  our  own  day,  are  the 
men  (oh !  how  large  is  their  number)  who  flatter 
themselves  that  they  have  some  good  apology  for 
their  sins ;  that  peculiar  circumstances  render  that 
excusable,  which  otherwise  would  be  criminal. 
Precisely  like  them,  are  they  who  think  they  may 
safely  neglect  duty  and  trespass  upon  right.  When 


424  TJIE   POWEK    OF    CONSCIENCE. 

I  see  a  man  violating  truth,  or  practicing  deception, 
or  going  aside  from  the  straight  line  of  upright 
ness,  because  apparently  good  of  any  kind  may 
thus  be  gained  or  evil  avoided — when  I  see  a  pro 
fessing  Christian  compromising  principle,  or  justi 
fying  conformity  to  the  world,  on  the  ground  that 
it  is  allowable  in  his  peculiar  circumstances — when 
I  find  a  man  out  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  admit 
ting  that  he  ought  to  be  a  Christian,  yet  unwilling 
to  submit  at  once  to  the  requirements  of  the  gos 
pel,  thinking  that  he  may,  in  view  of  some  pecu 
liarity  in  his  situation,  not  only  safely,  but  even 
rightly  procrastinate  his  decision  upon  the  subject, 
I  know  that  he  is  endowed  with  a  power  precisely 
like  that  which  convulsed  the  spirit  of  Iscariot  with 
an  intolerable  agony,  and  which  only  awaits  the 
opportunity  which  the  Providence  of  God,  sooner 
or  later,  will  furnish,  of  rising  in  the  full  majesty 
and  terror  of  its  might,  and  pouring  down  upon  its 
wretched  victim  the  full  measure  of  its  overwhelm 
ing  and  withering  malediction. 

These  hearts  of  ours,  my  brethren,  are  very  in 
genious  in  covering  over  sin.  Never  are  our  wits  so 
sharp,  as  when  our  transgressions  are  to  be  excused. 
But  oh  !  let  us  learn  from  the  case  before  us,  that 
all  the  wretched  meshes  in  which  we  may  entangle 
conscience,  will  sooner  or  later  break  away,  as  a 
thread  of  tow,  when  it  touches  the  fire.  God  regu 
lates  the  movements  of  conscience,  and  God  allows 
of  no  apology  for  sin.  He  can  forgive  it ;  he  can 
forget  it ;  he  can  blot  it  out  as  a  cloud  and  a  thick 
cloud  ;  he  can  bury  it  in  the  depths  of  the  sea ;  he 


THE    POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  425 

can  cany  it  away,  so  that  no  more  mention  shall 
be  made  of  it;  but  he  never,  no  never  can  ex 
cuse  it.  And  the  man  who  is  in  the  habit  of  apol 
ogizing  for  sin,  and  soothing  himself  with  the 
thought  that  he  cannot  well  avoid  doing  what  he  is 
doing — and  that  what  he  cannot  well  avoid  doing, 
he  cannot  be  very  guilty  in  doing — may  be  sure 
that  the  time  is  coming,  when  conscience  shall 
awake,  and  cause  the  earth  seemingly  to  ring  again, 
as  though  the  footsteps  of  the  avenger  were  ap 
proaching,  and  make  him  start  and  quake,  as  it 
peoples  the  scene  around  him  with  the  ghosts  and 
images  of  his  iniquities. 

It  is  a  solemn  truth  which  I  am  uttering,  and  a 
fearful  and  real  consummation  I  am  portending. 
Judas  trembled  and  was  overwhelmed  when  the 
full  guilt  of  his  treachery  burst  upon  his  mind,  as 
he  saw  his  Master  condemned ;  and  the  man  who 
rejects  Christ  now,  and  treats  him  with  scorn,  and 
instead  of  forsaking  his  sins,  extenuates  and  apolo 
gizes  for  them,  may  be  sure,  that  if  not  before,  he 
will  be  startled  by  the  trumpet  peal  of  judgment ; 
and  then  all  his  sophistry  will  leave  him,  and  all 
his  apologies  will  vanish,  and  as  the  great  white 
throne  is  set,  and  the  judge  descends,  there  will  be 
a  cry  of  agony,  "  This  is  Jesus  whom  I  crucified ; 
hide  me  from  the  presence  of  the  Lamb." 

It  is  perfectly  idle  for  any  man  to  say  all  this  i  i 
fable,  for  every  man  knows  better.  As  no  one  can 
be  found  who  is  not  a  subject  of  compunctions  of 
conscience,  there  is  no  one  who  does  not  carry  within 
him  a  prophet  which  portends  precisely  such  an 


426  THE   POWER    OF   CONSCIENCE. 

issue.  There  is  a  process  continually  going  on  of 
retribution — of  reward  for  right  and  punishment 
for  wrong — showing  us  what  kind  of  a  government 
is  that  of  God,  under  which  we  live  ;  and  however 
desperate  a  man's  struggles  with  himself  may  be, 
he  cannot  get  entirely  rid  of  this  process.  There 
is  a  tribunal  set  up  every  day  in  the  human  bosom, 
and  a  judge  there,  and  sentence  pronounced  there  ; 
aye,  more  than  this,  carried  into  effect  there.  But 
then,  when  you  come  to  analyze  the  nature  of  these 
inflictions,  you  find  that  they  consist  in  dread,  and 
therefore  no  man  can  get  rid  of  the  evidence  of  a 
dreadful  scene  in  the  future.  The  certainty  of  the  fact 
itself,  then,  of  which  we  speak,  no  man  who  reads 
at  all  the  workings  of  his  own  mind,  can  doubt. 
If  you  ask  when,  where,  how,  I  give  you  but  the 
same  answer  which  our  Saviour  gave  to  a  similar 
question,  proposed  by  his  disciples,  when  he  had 
been  predicting  terrible  judgments  :  "  Wheresoever 
the  body  is,  there  will  the  eagles  be  gathered  to 
gether."  Wherever  there  is  prey,  there  is  the  bird 
of  prey.  Vengeance  seems  to  follow  the  sinner  as 
by  a  kind  of  instinct.  He  may  cross  the  ocean,  as 
cend  the  mountain,  dive  into  the  cavern,  but  he  can 
never  hide  himself  from  conscience,  which  like  the 
eagle,  hovering  over  its  prey,  is  ready  at  any  mo 
ment  to  pounce  upon  its  victim.  The  commission 
of  sin  seems  to  produce  the  bird  of  prey.  No 
sooner  is  the  act  performed,  but  the  fatal  flap  of 
its  wing  is  heard.  And  who,  in  view  of  this  fact, 
can  doubt  that  every  subject  of  unrepented  and 
unforsaken  sin,  must  sooner  or  later  fall  under  a 


THE   POWER    OF    CONSCIENCE.  427 

ministry  of  vengeance,  whose  terrors  are  prefigured 
in  the  painful  premonitions  already  felt?  Wh)  ••an 
escape  ?  Who  can  evade  the  scrutiny  which  must 
be  carried  on,  and  the  sentence  which  must  be 
passed  in  the  solitudes  of  every  human  heart? 
Some  time  or  other,  the  antitypes  to  these  convic 
tions  must  come.  Man  must  reach  the  substance 
of  these  dreadful  symbols,  enter  upon  the  inherit 
ance,  of  which  he  has  already  the  earnest.  If  we 
are  right  in  our  views,  then  if  man  is  a  sinner,  con 
science  is  ever  at  hand,  like  a  bird  of  prey,  with 
an  eye  that  scathes,  and  a  beak  that  lacerates — 
and  if  not  before,  when  man  falls,  no  matter  how,  no 
matter  where,  no  matter  when,  there  it  will  be 
instantly  upon  him,  as  though  it  had  been  watching 
its  moment,  hovering  over  his  dwelling;,  track- 

O  O' 

ing  his  steps  by  night  and  by  day,  by  sea  and 
land.  This  is  conscience.  Woe  to  the  man  who 
falls  its  prey — he  may  fly,  but  it  flies  with  him — it 
is  in  him,  it  is  an  eternal  part  of  himself.  My  im 
penitent  and  unforgiven  hearer,  the  eagle  is  upon 
thee — hie  to  the  refuge  which  God  has  furnished 
in  the  Redeemer's  cross. 


HISTORY  OF   SAUL. 

p"  "  Now  Samuel  was  dead,  and  all  Israel  had  lamented  him,  and  buried 
him  in  Ramah,  even  in  his  own  city.  And  Saul  had  put  away  those 
that  had  familiar  spirits,  and  the  wizards,  out  of  the  land.  And  the 
Philistines  gathered  themselves  together,  and  came  and  pitched  in 
Shunem  :  and  Saul  gathered  all  Israel  together,  and  they  pitched  in 
Gilboa.  And  when  Saul  saw  the  host  of  the  Philistines,  he  was  afraid, 
and  his  heart  greatly  trembled.  And  when  Saul  enquired  of  the  LORD, 
the  LORD  answered  him  not,  neither  by  dreams,  nor  by  Urim,  nor  by 
prophets.  Then  Saul  said  unto  his  servants,  Seek  me  a  woman  that 
hath  a  familiar  spirit,  that  I  may  go  to  her,  and  inquire  of  her.  And 
his  servants  said  to  him,  Behold,  there  is  a  woman  that  hath  a  familiar 
spirit  at  Endor.  And  Saul  disguised  himself,  and  put  on  other  raiment, 
and  he  went,  and  two  men  with  him,  and  they  came  to  the  woman  by 
night :  and  he  said,  I  pray  thee,  divine  unto  me  by  the  familiar  spirit, 
and  bring  me  him  up  whom  I  shall  name  unto  thee.  And  the  woman 
said  unto  him,  Behold,  thou  knowest  what  Saul  hath  done,  how  he  hath 
cut  off  those  that  have  familiar  spirits,  and  the  wizards,  out  of  the  land : 
wherefore  then  layest  thou  a  snare  for  my  life,  to  cause  me  to  die  ? 
And  Saul  sware  to  her  by  the  LORD,  saying,  as  the  LORD  liveth,  there 
shall  no  punishment  happen  to  thee  for  this  thing.  Then  said  the  wo 
man,  Whom  shall  I  bring  up  unto  thee  ?  And  he  said,  Bring  me  up 
Samuel.  And  when  the  woman  saw  Samuel,  she  cried  with  a  loud 
voice  :  and  the  woman  spake  to  Saul,  saying,  Why  hast  thou  deceived 
me  ?  for  thou  art  Saul.  And  the  king  said  unto  her,  Be  not  afraid  : 
for  what  sawest  thou  ?  And  the  woman  said  unto  Saul,  I  saw  gods 
ascending  out  of  the  earth.  And  he  said  unto  her,  What  form  is  he 
of  ?  And  she  said,  An  old  man  cometh  up  ;  and  he  is  covered  with  a 
mantle.  And  Saul  perceived  that  it  was  Samuel,  and  he  stooped  with 
his  face  to  the  ground,  and  bowed  himself.  And  Samuel  said  to  Saul, 
Why  hast  thou  disquieted  me,  to  bring  me  up  ?  And  Saul  answered, 
I  am  sore  distressed  ;  for  the  Philistines  make  war  against  me,  and  God 


HISTOEY    OF   SAUL.  429 

is  departed  from  me,  and  answereth  me  no  more,  neither  by  prophets 
nor  by  dreams  :  therefore  I  have  called  thee,  that  thou  mayest  make 
known  unto  me  what  I  shall  do.  Then  said  Samuel,  Wherefore  then 
dost  thou  ask  of  me,  seeing  the  LORD  is  departed  from  thee,  and  is  become 
thine  enemy  ?  And  the  LORD  hath  done  to  him,  as  he  spake  by  me  :  for 
the  LORD  hath  rent  the  kingdom  out  of  thine  hand,  and  given  it  to 
thy  neighbour,  even  to  David  :  Because  thou  obeyedst  not  the  voice  of 
the  LORD  ,nor  executedst  his  fierce  wrath  upon  Amalek,  therefore  hath 
the  LORD  done  this  thing  unto  thee  this  day.  Moreover,  the  LORD  will 
also  deliver  Israel  with  thee  into  the  hand  of  the  Philistines  :  and  to 
morrow  shalt  thou  and  thy  sons  be  with  me :  the  LORD  also  shall  deliver 
the  hosts  of  Israel  into  the  hand  of  the  Philistines." — FIRST  BOOK  OF 
SAMUEL  xxviii.  3-19. 


OUR  discourse  this  morning  is  designed  to  be 
historical.  We  take  for  its  subject  the  history, 
more  particularly  its  closing  scenes,  of  Saul,  the 
king  of  Israel,  contained  in  the  chapter  we  have 
read  to  you,  on  some  accounts  among  the  most 
remarkable,  as  it  certainly  is  among  the  most  in 
structive  biographies  upon  the  sacred  page.  There 
is,  indeed,  a  wildness  in  some  of  its  parts,  there 
is  a  mixture  of  the  strange  and  supernatural  which 
excites  attention  and  awakens  curiosity ;  and  we 
would  avail  ourselves  of  these  features  the  more 
easily  to  fasten  the  mind  upon  those  great  practical 
lessons  which  are  interwoven  with  the  story,  and 
for  the  sake  of  which  it  has  been  preserved  upon 
the  inspired  record  among  the  things  which  "  were 
written  for  our  knowledge."  The  mysterious  and 
unearthly  circumstances  connected  with  the  story 
can  in  themselves  minister  only  to  an  unprofitable 
excitement  of  the  feelings,  and  might  be  passed 
over  almost  without  notice,  were  it  not  that  there 


430  HISTOKY    OF   SAUL. 

are  truths  here  which  relate  to  the  conscience, 
which  cannot  be  brought  out  fully  to  view,  but  in 
canvassing  those  remarkable  incidents  which  to 
many  give  its  only  interest  to  the  narrative. 

If  the  history  is  remarkable,  I  cannot  say  that  it 
is  peculiar.  I  doubt  not  that  many  a  man  living 
can  see,  in  the  features  of  this  first  king  of  Israel, 
his  own  moral  lineaments — while  I  am  sure  that 
the  principles  upon  which  he  acted  are  receiving 
now,  in  new  forms  indeed,  their  daily  illustrations ; 
and  the  course  which  he  pursued  is,  in  all  its  essen 
tial  points,  the  same  with  that  which  not  a  few  all 
around  us  are  treading,  perhaps  unconsciously  to 
themselves.  With  this  view  of  the  narrative,  and 
this  explanation  of  my  purposes,  I  ask  my  hearers 
to  come  with  me  to  its  study.  I  wish  to  give  the 
outlines  of  the  history,  and  then  present  the  moral 
lessons  it  suggests. 

The  commencement  of  the  reign  of  Saul  was  full 
of  promise.  His  character  as  a  son  marked  by 
filial  submission  and  obedience,  seemed  to  fit  him 
for  a  sovereign,  (as  they  only  who  have  learned  to 
obey  understand  rightly  how  to  govern,)  while  the 
meekness  with  which  he  bore  his  honours,  and  the 
vigour  with  which  he  entered  upon  his  duties,  were 
ominous  of  a  happy  course  both  to  himself  and  his 
people.  Gifted  as  a  man  with  all  those  qualities 
of  head  and  heart  requisite  to  the  discharge  of  his 
office,  nothing  seems  to  have  been  wanting  to  com 
plete  his  character,  and  ensure  prosperity,  but  the 
influence  of  fixed  religious  principle.  We  are 
among  the  number  of  those  who  look  upon  a  deep 


HISTOEY    OF    SAUL.  431 

and  controlling  sense  of  responsibility  to  God  as 
essential  to  permanent  security  and  success  in  any 
department  or  sphere  of  human  action.  The  sub 
jects  of  official  trusts,  men  upon  whom  are  devolved 
the  weighty  interests  and  concerns  of  a  nation,  need, 
above  all  others,  its  directing  influence.  No  amount 
of  energy,  no  degree  of  political  sagacity,  no 
shrewdness  or  cunning,  no  skill,  however  consum 
mate,  of  managing  men,  and  availing  one's  self  of 
passing  circumstances,  can  atone  for  the  absence  of 
a  spirit  which  leads  one  to  do  right  in  the  sight  of 
God,  or  supply  its  place  among  the  elements  of 
permanent  prosperity. 

Of  this  fixed  religious  principle,  the  king  of  Is 
rael  seems  to  have  been  entirely  destitute.  There 
is  no  evidence,  in  any  of  his  doings,  that  he  was  a 
man  whose  heart  was  right  with  God.  We  are 
told,  indeed,  that  he  became  another  man — that 
"  God  gave  him  another  heart.'1  And  there  is  un 
questionable  evidence  that  a  great  change  came 
over  his  views  and  feelings,  over  his  abilities  and 
his  inclinations,  so  that  forgetting  his  former  em 
ployments,  his  mind,  as  it  was  fixed  upon  the  duties 
of  his  new  office,  expanded  in  those  qualities  which 
become  a  general  and  a  monarch.  We  have  no 
doubt  that,  called  suddenly  as  he  was  to  his  royal 
station,  he  was  endowed  with  high  courage  and 
nobility  of  spirit,  which  did  not  before  belong  him, 
because  they  were  uncalled  for  in  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  had  moved ;  and  in  reference  to  these 
new  mental  developments,  it  is  said,  that  "  God 
gave  him  another  heart."  His  whole  subsequent 


432  HISTORY    OF    SAUL. 

history,  however,  shews  that  he  had  never  been 
renewed  in  the  spirit  of  his  mind — even  amid  the 
apparent  solicitude  for  God's  honour  which  he 
sometimes  assumed,  you  can  discover  nothing  like 
the  influence  of  religious  principle — nothing  but 
what  is  often  common  in  our  own  day,  a  deference 
to  religious  externals,  which  the  nature  of  his  office 
or  public  opinion  seemed  to  demand. 

The  wisdom,  and  prudence,  and  courage,  which 
marked  the  commencement  of  his  administration, 
won  the  hearts  of  his  subjects,  and  secured  the 
complete  triumph  of  their  arms.  Never  were  a 
people  apparently  in  more  prosperous  circumstan 
ces  at  home,  and  abroad  never  did  a  monarch 
occupy  a  prouder  position. 

His  elevation  and  success,  however,  seemed  too 
much  for  his  unbalanced  and  ungoverned  spirit  to 
bear,  and  in  a  very  little  while,  his  proud  and  un- 
sanctified  nature  developed  itself;  his  conduct 
changed,  and  he  began  to  decline  almost  as  rapidly 
as  he  had  previously  advanced.  In  disobedience  to 
the  positive  command  of  God,  his  impatient  spirit 
led  him  to  assume  the  functions  of  the  prophet,  and 
offer  the  peace-offering  and  burnt  offering  before 
he  went  out  against  the  Philistines.  The  excuses 
he  advanced,  when  reproved  for  his  disobedience, 
so  far  from  evincing  any  sense  of  his  wrong  doing, 
showed  a  disposition  to  defend,  what  in  his  con 
science  he  knew  to  have  been  wrong.  The  success 
which  was  granted  him  in  battle,  notwithstanding 
his  rebellion,  served  only  to  harden  his  heart ;  and 
he  went  on  in  his  course  of  almost  reckless  impiety, 


HISTORY    OF   SAUL.  433 

until,  in  the  case  of  Amelek,  lie  suffered  personal 
and  selfish  considerations  to  sway  him,  and  in  op 
position  to  the  express  order  of  God  through  his 
prophet,  spared  the  king  of  Amalek  and  the  rich 
est  of  the  booty,  destroying  only  that  which  was 
refuse  and  useless.  He  now  seems  to  have  passed 
the  point  of  Divine  forbearance.  Though  for  many 
years  thereafter  he  remained  upon  the  throne,  his 
history  is  one  of  crime  and  suffering.  Deprived  of 
the  counsels  and  admonitions  of  Samuel  the  pro 
phet,  who  now  entirely  left  him,  troubled  by  an 
evil  spirit  which  came  upon  him  in  judgment  from 
God,  he  appears  to  have  been  given  up  altogether 
to  his  own  devices,  and  the  unchecked  dominion  of 
those  evil  passions  which  first  led  him  astray  from 
the  path  of  duty. 

We  now  find  the  once  wise  and  prudent  and 
happy  king,  an  abandoned  man ;  a  fierce,  dark,  mel 
ancholy  man,  a  terror  to  himself  and  to  those 
around  him.  But  in  his  distress  he  turned  not  to 
the  Lord.  Like  too  many,  in  our  own  day,  who 
when  disappointment  and  sorrow  come  upon  them, 
turn'  to  the  cup,  the  viol  and  the  song,  Saul  instead 
of  seeking  relief  in  prayer  for  his  troubled  mind, 
sought  it  in  the  melody  which  the  son  of  Jesse 
swept  from  his  harp-strings.  But  soon  his  source 
of  comfort  became  one  of  pain.  Now  all  the  bit 
terness  of  his  spirit  seemed  to  vent  itself  upon  the 
youth  whose  music  had  partially  relieved  his  melan 
choly — to  destroy  him  became  his  controlling,  un 
governable  passion,  and  though  at  times,  when  Da 
vid,  the  object  of  his  malice,  manifested  the  most 
28 


434  HISTORY    OF   SAUL. 

generous  forbearance,  there  seemed  to  be  about 
Saul  some  symptoms  of  remorse,  some  bursts  of 
better  feelings,  these  were  but  pauses  in  the  storm, 
which  seemed  thereafter  to  rage  with  greater  vio 
lence,  and  make  the  closing  part  of  the  monarch's 
life  darker  and  darker,  without  a  single  indication 
of  that  true  repentance,  which  even  then  might 
have  averted  his  coming  doom. 

And  now  we  reach  the  end,  where  we  find  the 
lessons  upon  which  we  wish  mainly  to  dwell. 

The  Philistines  are  gathered  together  against 
Israel.  Samuel,  who  had  been  the  king's  counsel 
lor  and  friend,  is  dead,  and  all  the  circumstances 
in  which  Saul  was  placed,  conspire  to  harass  him, 
and  fill  him  with  the  most  gloomy  forebodings. 
Completely  at  a  loss,  his  own  wisdom,  his  own  pru 
dence  and  skill  at  fault,  not  knowing  in  which 
direction  to  turn,  he  betook  himself  to  God ;  and 
here  we  have  one  of  those  cases  which  have  been 
put  upon  record  by  way  of  warning,  to  check  that 
presumption  of  the  human  heart,  which  leads  man 
to  suppose  that  at  any  time  he  may  make  his  peace 
with  heaven  ;  one  of  those  cases  which  go  to  show- 
that  there  is  a  time,  when,  though  we  may  seek 
God,  we  cannot  find  him,  though  we  call  upon 
him  he  will  not  hear  us.  Saul  consulted  God  in 
his  extremity,  but  it  was  too  late ;  he  answered 
him  not,  neither  by  dreams,  nor  by  visions,  nor  by 
the  prophets.  We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  if  Saul 
had  sought  God  by  true  repentance  and  unfeigned 
humiliation,  he  would  not  have  found  him.  We 
do  not  think  we  have  a  right  to  say  of  any  man  in 


HISTORY    OF   SAUL.  435 

this  world,  that  he  is  beyond  the  reach  of  pardon, 
if  whatever  may  have  been  his  past  life,  there  is  at 
any  time  a  renunciation  of  sin,  and  true  repentance. 
But  of  this  contrition  Saul  knew  nothinsr.  No 

O 

sense  of  the  wrong  he  had  done  moved  him,  but 
simply  a  sense  of  the  peril  to  which  he  was  ex 
posed.  He  was  the  same  unprincipled  man  now, 
that  he  was  when  he  spared  the  king  of  Arnalek, 
or  persecuted  David ;  therefore  God  heard  him 
not ;  the  sentence  of  judgment  had  gone  forth,  the 
king  must  be  left  to  himself,  and  the  mighty  must 
be  gathered  and  fall  at  Gilboa.  And  now  it  is 
that  the  wickedness  of  his  heart  fully  developed 
itself.  Hear  this  man  whom  God  had  raised  up  to 
be  king ;  this  man  whom  Samuel,  the  prophet, 
had  instructed ;  this  man  who  knew  truth  and 
duty,  hear  him,  and  see  to  what  lengths  of  wicked 
ness  one  forsaken  of  the  Spirit  of  God  will  go. 
"Seek  me  a  woman  that  hath  a  familiar  spirit, 
that  I  may  go  to  her  and  inquire  of  her."  If  you 
are  acquainted  with  the  Old  Testament  records, 
you  are  not  ignorant  of  the  severity  of  God's  laws 
against  every  thing  like  witchcraft.  u  Thou  shalt 
not  suffer  a  witch  to  live,"  were  the  words  of  God 
to  Moses,  when  giving  him  the  code  of  laws  by 
which  the  Israelites  were  to  be  governed ;  and  by 
this  code  Saul  in  the  former  part  of  his  reign  had 
been  governed,  and  in  his  measures  had  carried  out 
the  spirit  of  this  law  to  the  letter.  Without  stop 
ping  to  inquire  into  the  motive  of  his  unrelenting 
war  against  all  who  dealt  in  divination  and  necro 
mancy,  it  is  enough  to  know  that  he  was  not  influ- 


436  HISTORY    OF    SAUL. 

enced  by  any  abhorrence  of  the  crime  as  a  viola 
tion  of  the  laws  of  God,  since  we  find  him  now,  in 
his  anxiety  to  pry  into  the  future,  having  recourse 
to  the  very  arts  which  he  once  sought  to  abolish ; 
and  herein  he  presents  the  melancholy  picture  of 
man  forsaken  of  God,  giving  himself  up  to  the  most 
desperate  wickedness. 

In  reference  to  these  practices  to  which  the  king 
now  resorted,  and  to  which  God  had  affixed  the 
penalty  of  death,  I  cannot  coincide  in  opinion  with 
those  who  think  that  they  were  nothing  more  than, 
jugglery  and  deceit,  and  that  sorcery  was  little  if 
any  thing  else,  than  skilful  imposition.  I  cannot 
find  in  this  view  a  justification  of  the  really  san 
guinary  laws  which  were  enacted  against  them.  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to  the  belief,  that  under  the 
Jewish  dispensation,  mere  sleight  of  hand  was  a 
crime  punishable  with  death,  and  I  am  forced  to 
the  conviction  that  there  wras  more  than  trick  in 
those  who  professed  to  have  intercourse  with  the 
spiritual  world  ;  and  without  pretending  to  know 
or  divine  any  of  the  secrets  of  necromancy,  I  can 
not  escape  the  conclusion  that  there  was  some  com 
bination  between  human  beings  and  impure  spirits. 
Nor  is  there  any  thing  unphilosophical  or  irrational 
in  such  an  opinion.  It  is  no  more  absurd,  no  more 
difficult  of  credence,  than  are  the  demoniacal  pos 
sessions  recorded  in  the  New  Testament,  the  reality 
of  which  is  put  past  all  doubt  by  the  evidence  sus 
taining  it.  If  I  may  venture  on  a  suggestion  here 
somewhat  explanatory  of  this  matter,  (and  no  sug 
gestion  is  out  of  place  which  tends  to  throw  light 


HISTORY    OF    SAUL.  437 

upon  the  sacred  page,)  it  is  this :  The  devil  is 
said  to  be  the  god  of  this  world,  and  in  the  ages 
of  heathenism  he  reigned  without  a  rival;  the 
whole  system  of  idolatry,  with  its  impious  dogmas, 
its  profane  rites,  its  mysterious  oracles,  was  his 
work,  by  means  of  which  he  was  permitted  to  ex 
ercise  his  power  over  his  deluded  subjects,  and  to 
the  overthrow  of  this  system,  when  Christianity 
was  fully  introduced,  I  believe  that  our  Saviour 
referred,  when  he  said,  "  I  saw  Satan  as  lightning 
fall  from  heaven ;"  and  now  we  can  see  why  the 
practice  of  sorcery  and  necromancy  was  a  capital 
offence  under  the  Jewish  law,  as  it  tended  to  sub 
vert  the  very  foundations  of  the  system,  bringing 
in  idolatry  with  its  infamous  rites,  against  the  uni 
versal  prevalence  of  which  it  was  the  design  of 
God,  by  means  of  the  institutions  of  Moses,  to  pro 
tect  mankind.  It  was  not  merely  a  spiritual,  but 
also  a  political  offence  :  it  was  an  attack  upon  the 
first  principles  of  their  civil  policy  ;  it  was  treason 
against  the  government  of  the  nation. 

"While,  however,  I  take  this  position,  I  am  not  to 
be  understood  as  intimating  that  evil  agencies 
could  go  beyond  the  permission  of  God,  could  in 
fringe  upon  the  prerogative  of  the  Creator,  or  com 
municate  any  information  or  power  which  tran 
scended  the  reach  of  the  creature.  They  might 
unquestionably  reveal  many  hidden  transactions  of 
the  past,  but  they  could  never  penetrate  into  the 
secrets  of  the  future.  With  much  of  human  arti 
fice  in  the  divination  and  necromancy  of  ancient 
times,  there  was,  as  appears  clearly  proved  by  the 


438  HISTOEY    OF    SAUL. 

testimony  of  Scripture,  mingled  not  a  little  which 
surpassed  human  power,  which  seems  conclusively 
to  establish  something  like  supernatural  machina 
tion. 

It  was  to  an  adept  in  such  arts  that  Saul  resorted. 
Instead  of  being  humbled  because  God  heard  him 
not,  he  became  desperate  in  his  measures,  and  re 
solved  as  he  could  not  obtain  an  answer  from 
above,  to  seek  one  from  beneath.  Herein  he  filled 
up  the  measure  of  his  wickedness ;  he  forsakes  ut 
terly  the  God,  by  whom  he  had  been  raised  to 
power,  becomes  a  transgressor  of  the  law  he  had 
sworn  to  preserve  inviolate,  a  traitor  to  the  govern 
ment  whose  honour  and  integrity  he  was  solemnly 
pledged  to  maintain. 

And  now  for  the  sequel.  Disguised,  and  at 
the  dead  of  night,  the  wretched  and  guilty  king 
goes  to  Endor,  to  consult  with  the  wizard  who 
resided  there,  and  he  invokes  her  to  bring  up  from 
the  grave  the  prophet  Samuel — and  here  there  is 
an  abruptness  in  the  sacred  narrative,  as  though 
God  would  prevent  us  from  prying  too  deeply  into 
such  unhallowed  mysteries.  What  the  process  of 
necromancy  was  in  this  case  we  know  not,  but  an 
old  man  covered  with  a  mantle  rises  up  out  of  the 
earth,  and  Saul  recognizing  Samuel,  bowed  his  face 
to  the  ground. 

And  who  is  this  shrouded  personage  who  rises 
up,  seemingly  in  obedience  to  the  necromancer's 
art  ?  We  are  aware  of  the  very  common  interpre 
tation,  that  Satan  here  assumed  the  form,  of  the 
prophet,  and  that  this  spectral  thing  was  the  evil 


HISTORY    OF   SAUL.  439 

spirit  with  whom  the  woman  of  Endor  was  in  com 
munion  ;  but  from  this  view  of  the  case  we  dissent. 
We  believe  that  it  was  really  the  form  of  Samuel 
by  which  the  king  was  now  confronted,  and  yet 
we  do  not  believe  that  his  appearance  had  any 
thing  to  do  as  a  result  with  the  witch's  incantations. 
We  cannot  for  one  moment  harbour  the  opinion, 
that  the  souls  of  the  righteous,  after  being  delivered 
from  the  burden  of  the  flesh,  are  to  any  degree  un 
der  the  control  of  evil  agen  cy,  so  that  they  may  be 
summoned  back  again  to  the  world — and  yet  here 
was  the  form  of  Samuel  which  stood  before  Saul. 
If  it  was  not  so,  the  inspired  narrative  would  not 
have  spoken  of  the  apparition  as  Samuel.     There 
is  nothing  in  the  language  used  to  suggest  a  doubt, 
but  every  thing  to  induce  the  belief  that  it  was 
Samuel  who  appeared,  and  Samuel  who  spoke,  a 
fact  which  must  militate  against  the  truthfulness  of 
the  record,  if  it  was  an  evil  spirit,  and  not  the  pro 
phet,  who  addressed  the  king. 

The  sorceress,  too,  no  less  than  her  guest,  was 
surprised,  startled  and  terrified  by  the  mysterious 
form  which  rose  up  out  of  the  earth.  Evidently  she 
expected  no  such  apparition,  and  it  is  idle  to  suppose 
that  she  would  have  been  so  surprised,  if  the  ap 
pearance  corresponded  with  her  expectations.  We 
suppose  that  in  the  midst  of  the  proceedings  God 
himself  interfered,  and  before  the  necromancer  had 
completed  her  arrangements,  he  sent  the  dead 
prophet  with  his  message  of  woe.  We  are  con 
firmed  in  this  opinion  by  the  fact  that  the  appari 
tion  delivered  a  prophecy  of  the  future,  which  was 


440  HISTOEY    OF   SAUL. 

verified  to  the  letter  by  the  events,  and  herein 
transcended  all  human  power.  It  is  the  preroga" 
tive  of  God  alone  to  foretell  things  to  come,  and  the 
accuracy  of  the  uttered  prediction  forbids  any 
other  supposition,  but  that  the  old  man  clothed  with 
a  mantle,  was  Samuel  himself,  commissioned  of  God 
to  revisit  the  earth  and  pronounce  the  doom  of  the 
obdurate  king. 

It  was  a  wonderful  and  thrilling  scene  which 
followed.  How  reproachfully  must  the  well  re 
membered  voice  of  him  who  had  been  so  grieved 
and  distressed  while  living  have  fallen  upon  the 
ear  of  the  guilty  monarch.  What  madness  in  Saul 
to  think  that  by  unhallowed  means  he  could  gain 
from  God's  prophet  what  God  himself  refused  to 
bestow ;  what  could  he  look  for  in  such  circum 
stances,  but  the  utterance  of  reproof,  and  the  pre 
dictions  of  vengeance  ?  The  Lord  has  become 
thine  enemy,  says  the  prophet ;  because  of  thy  wick 
edness  thou  art  forsaken  and  abandoned.  The  cup 
of  thine  iniquity  is  filled  up ;  thine  end  is  come ; 
to-morrow  thou  and  thy  sons  shall  be  with  me ;  and 
the  prophet  disappears,  and  Saul  is  overwhelmed. 
And  yet,  though  he  had  heard  his  death-knell  rung 
in  his  ears,  he  recovers  from  his  shock,  and  goes  out 
on  the  morrow  to  the  battle.  But  his  bravery  availed 
him  nothing;  the  edict  had  gone  forth  against 
him ;  his  sons  fall  on  Gilboa ;  he  himself  is  among 
the  wounded,  and  even  yet  his  pride  and  haughti 
ness  of  spirit  prevail,  and  to  prevent  his  death  by 
the  hand  of  the  uncircumcised  he  falls  upon  his 
own  sword,  and  rushes,  a  guilty  suicide,  into  the  pre- 


HISTOEY   OF   SAUL.  441 

sence  of  that  God  whom  be  had  so  greatly  insulted, 
and  by  whom  he  had  been  utterly  forsaken. 

Thus  perished  one  who  promised  fair  in  the  com 
mencement  of  his  course.  Naturally  unstable,  ar 
rogant,  and  impetuous,  and  destitute  of  all  religious 
principle,  rapidly,  when  he  followed  the  bent  of 
his  passions,  did  he  tread  the  downward  path  ; 
shewing  us  that,  however  happy  may  be  a  man's 
beginning,  there  is  no  security  for  a  happy  contin 
uance  and  end,  but  in  an  abiding  determination  to 
do  right,  and  an  abiding  sense  of  dependence  upon 
God ;  and  when  without  these  a  man  yields  to  tempta 
tion,  he  goes  not  by  steps,  but  by  strides,  from  one 
degree  of  infatuation  and  recklessness  to  another, 
until  with  a  hardened  heart  and  seared  conscience 
he  rushes  madly  upon  ruin,  and  perishes,  at  last, 
in  his  own  corruption. 

We  have  already  said  that  we  do  not  look  upon 
this  history,  however  remarkable,  as  by  any  means 
singular.  If  in  the  course  which  Saul  pursued  he 
stood  alone,  if  there  were  none  like  him  now,  or 
none  in  danger  of  becoming  like  him,  the  story 
would  be  to  us  without  its  moral,  and  without  its 
warning  ;  but  we  believe  that  there  are  not  a  few 
even  in  our  day  in  whom  the  same  sinfulness  of  the 
human  heart  is  acting  itself  out,  modified,  indeed, 
in  its  form  by  external  circumstances. 

I.  We  advert  here,  then,  by  way  of  instruction, 
to  one  peculiarity  of  Saul's  course,  as  evincing  his 
growing  wickedness.  I  mean  his  becoming  a  pa 
tron  of  the  sin  of  which  Before  he  had  been  the 
opponent.  Whatever  the  ascendancy  which  sor- 


442  HISTORY    OF    SAUL. 

eery  had  once  over  him — and  it  was  unquestiona 
bly  great — still  he  had  professed  his  conviction  of 
its  sinfulness,  and  had  endeavoured  to  expel  it 
from  the  land  ;  and  now  he  gives  evidence  of  his 
growing  depravity,  and  his  rapidly  approaching 
ruin,  as  he  favours  the  very  sin  against  which  he 
had  once  determinedly  set  himself.  Herein  he  is 
like  the  man  of  whom  our  Saviour  speaks,  when  he 
wishes  to  describe  a  desperate  moral  condition, 
from  whom  the  evil  spirit  had  gone  out,  but  to 
whom  he  had  returned,  making  "his  last  state 
worse  than  the  first ;"  and  who  is  not  taught  by 
this  striking  narrative,  the  peril- of  the  man,  who 
having  been  checked  in  an  evil  course,  gives  him 
self  up  thereafter  to  the  influence  of  sin?  The 
slave  of  his  appetite,  who  has  felt  his  degradation, 
and  resolves  to  obtain  the  mastery,  and  after  a 
temporary  abstinence  returns  to  his  former  course, 
becomes  more  degraded  than  he  was  before ;  and 
the  man  whose  conscience  has  been  acted  upon  by 
the  Spirit  of  God,  and  who  has  roused  himself 
from  his  security,  and  then  again  given  himself  up 
to  carelessness,  only  proves  himself  farther  than 
ever  from  all  spiritual  impressions.  There  must  be, 
in  such  cases,  as  there  was  in  that  of  Saul,  a  grand 
victory  achieved  over  conscience,  and  a  great  de 
spite  done  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  so  the  breach 
widened  between  the  soul  and  God,  rendering  all 
ordinary  means  useless  for  the  purpose  of  re. 
covery. 

I  would  that   all  who  are  not  fully  determined 
upon  a  rejection  of  the  gospel ;  who  are  not  past 


HI3TOEY   OF   SAUL.  443 

the  wavering  point  upon  the  subject  of  religion, 
but  are  yet  halting  between  two  opinions,  to  look 
at  Saul,  as  he  goes  to  commune  with  the  witch  of 
Endor,  and  learn  from  him  a  lesson  of  their  dan 
ger.  If  there  are  those  who  have  their  hours  of 
anxiety,  their  seasons  of  spiritual  disquietude, 
when,  obeying  some  secret  impulse  which  is  not  of 
an  earthly  origin,  they  essay  to  break  away  from 
their  sins  and  practice  righteousness,  and  yet  return 
to  their  former  ways  of  folly  and  transgression,  we 
bid  them  mark  this  monarch  of  Israel,  as  under 
cover  of  the  night  he  approaches  the  scene  of  un 
hallowed  incantations ;  and  as  they  see  him  again 
tampering  with  that  which  he  once  endeavoured 
to  destroy,  what  is  he  doing  but  that  with  which 
they  themselves  may  be  justly  charged,  returning 
to  the  sin  which  had  been  forsaken ;  and  what  is 
the  very  worst  feature  of  the  case,  as  indicating 
the  erasure  of  all  good  impressions,  and  a  seared- 
ness  of  conscience,  finding  comfort  for  the  mind  in 
that  which  had  occasioned  disquietude  ?  And  as 
it  was  with  Saul,  so  may  we  expect  to  find  it  with 
every  one  who  acts  like  him  ;  there  will  be  a  repro 
bate  mind,  and  a  rapid  hastening  to  destruction. 

II.  I  would  have  you  observe,  however,  in  or 
der  to  bring  out  a  second  lesson  from  this  narra 
tive,  that  it  was  not  until  after  Saul  had  consulted 
God,  and  God  had  refused  to  answer  him  by 
dreams,  or  the  Urim  and  Thummim,  or  the  pro 
phets,  that  he  betook  himself  to  the  sorceress. 
We  need  hardly  repeat  here,  what  has  already 
been  said,  that  it  was  not  unfeignedly  and  with 


444  HISTOEY    OF    SAUL. 

full  purpose  of  heart  that  Saul  sought  the  Lord ; 
had  he  done  so,  even  in  his  then  desperate  condi 
tion,  he  would  have  found  pardon  and  succour: 
but,  with  an  unhumbled  heart,  and  with  the  same 
impatience  of  spirit  which  marked  him  when  he 
disobeyed  God,  by  invading  the  priest's  office  and 
offering  sacrifice,  now,  because  he  did  not  at  once 
receive  an  answer  according  to  his  wishes,  he  flies 
to  find  in  necromancy  what  he  could  not  find  in 
waiting  upon  the  Lord.  And  herein  I  think  he  is 
not  unlike  many  in  our  own  day,  upon  whose 
minds  some  serious  impressions  have  been  made, 
and  who  failing  to  find  relief  immediately  from 
their  spiritual  anxiety  in  the  duties  of  religion, 
seek  it  in  other  and  forbidden  things.  I  doubt 
not  that  there  are  many,  especially  among  our 
youth,  who  seek  to  allay  their  mental  uneasiness 
by  indulging  in  the  pleasures,  and  engrossing 
themselves  with  the  occupations  of  earth.  Unable 
at  all  times  to  repress  the  pleadings  of  conscience, 
those  pleadings  prevail  upon  them  for  a  time  to 
give  themselves  to  the  study  of  the  word  of  God, 
and  to  secret  prayer ;  but  very  soon  relief  is  sought 
from  their  urgency  in  the  business  and  amusements 
of  the  world. 

We  protest,  in  view  of  the  narrative  we  have 
spread  before  you,  against  all  such  means  of  allay 
ing  one's  moral  disquietude.  The  man  who  tells 
us  that  he  has  tried  by  the  relinquishrnent  of  sin 
ful  practices,  by  prayer,  and  the  study  of  the  word 
of  God,  and  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  comfort,  and  now 
must  search  for  it  among  the  things  of  this  life,  is 


HISTORY    OF   SAUL.  445 

acting  over  again  the  part  of  Saul,  who  because 
there  was  no  answer  at  once  from  the  Lord  to  his 
impatient  and  unhumbled  spirit,  fled  to  the  cave  of 
the  sorceress,  to  be  beguiled  and  deceived.  Such 
a  man  feels  that  he  is  in  peril,  that  he  is  environed  by 
many  forms  of  danger,  but  rather  than  meet  boldly 
the  difficulties  of  his  case,  and  follow  steadily  and 
determinedly  what  he  knows  to  be  the  will  of  the 
Almighty,  he  hastens  to  drink  of  the  cup  which 
shall  render  him  insensible,  and  be  soothed  by 
charms  and  spells  into  forgetfulness  of  his  condi 
tion. 

If  there  is  one  of  my  hearers  who  has  been  at 
all  aroused  to  a  sense  of  his  spiritual  condition,  as 
unreconciled  to  God,  we  would  endeavour  to  arrest 
the  fatal  determination  of  turning  to  the  delusions 
and  enchantments  of  earth,  for  that  peace  which 
can  be  found  only  in  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 
If  you  would  know  the  issue  of  such  a  course,  we 
will  play  the  part  of  the  enchantress  ourselves,  and 
summon  those  who  have  gone  before  you,  that  you 
may  learn  from  them  whether  there  can  be  safety 
and  peace  in  any  thing  but  righteousness.  We 
will  summon  the  dead  who  were  cut  down  in  their 
wickedness,  and  they  rise  up  and  bemoan  their 
madness,  in  having  been  "  lovers  of  pleasure  rather 
than  lovers  of  God ;"  and  as  they  flit  before  you, 
they  will  tell  you  that  to  follow  in  their  footsteps 
is  to  rush  headlong  upon  destruction.  We  will 
summon  those  who  lived  the  life,  and  died  the 
death  of  the  righteous,  and  as  they  pass  before 
you  in  their  beauty  and  their  joy,  they  exhort  you  to 


446  HISTOEY   OF   SAUL. 

"  lay  aside  every  weight  and  the  sin  which  doth 
most  easily  "beset  you,"  and  the  air  is  filled  with 
sweet  sounds  of  which  this  is  the  melody :  "  Blessed 
are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord." 

If  there  is  one  who  is  determined  to  act  over 
again  the  part  of  the  monarch  of  Israel,  who  went 
down  for  comfort  to  the  cave  of  the  sorceress — if 
there  is  one,  who  in  place  of  waiting  upon  God, 
and  seeking  peace  of  conscience  by  believing  upon 
Jesus  Christ,  is  determined  to  try  the  allurements 
and  fascinations  of  the  things  of  time  and  sense, 
we  would  meet  him  on  the  way,  and  bid  him  pause 
while  we  bring  up  the  dead,  and  lay  bare  the  se 
crets  of  the  future.  You  think  of  delighting  your 
self  in  the  things  of  earth,  and  in  forge  tfulness  of 
your  Maker.  We  tell  you  what  it  will  be,  as  we 
have  learned  it  from  communion  with  the  dead,  as 
their  words  are  given  to  us  upon  the  sacred  page. 
We  tell  you  what  thousands  before  you  have  found 
out  from  sad,  bitter  experience,  that  whatever  may 
be  the  fascinations  of  earthly  pleasure,  however  the 
mind  may  be  amused  for  awhile  with  worldly  pur 
suits,  yet  to  yield  ourself  up  to  sensual  gratifications 
and  to  secular  business,  is  to  make  shipwreck  of 
every  thing.  Thus,  while  you  give  yourself  up  to 
the  deceptions  of  the  world,  hoping  that  it  may 
soothe  you  with  visions  of  peace,  and  delight  you 
with  dreams  of  gladness,  we  rise  up  before  you  at 
the  bidding  of  God,  and  prophesy  of  evil — certain, 
irremediable  evil — but  not  of  this  alone,  for  herein 
is  a  wonderful  difference  between  the  scene  at  En- 
dor,  and  the  scene  through  which  we  are  now 


HISTOEY   OF   SAUL.  447 

passing  in  the  sanctuary.  "While  Samuel  had  but 
one  message  to  deliver,  and  that  one  which  told 
only  of  destruction,  we  have  indeed  to  speak  of 
ruin,  if  a  man  will  not  "  seek  first  the  kingdom  of 
God  and  his  righteousness ;"  but  we  have  also  to  say 
that  God  waiteth  to  be  gracious,  and  that  if  a  man 
will  but  renounce  that  which  cannot  satisfy,  he  shall 
have  in  its  place  "  a  peace  which  passeth  all  under 
standing,"  and  "  life  for  evermore." 

III.  I  cannot  but  advert,  in  conclusion,  to  the 
touching  fact  that  when  Saul  wished  counsel,  it 
was  from  Samuel  that  he  wished  to  receive  it; 
often  had  the  prophet  boldly  reproved  the  king, 
and  had,  indeed,  so  offended  him  by  his  faithful 
ness,  that  for  years  previous  to  the  prophet's  death 
there  had  been  no  intercourse  between  them.  The 
king  had  his  creatures  about  him,  whom  instead  of 
Samuel  he  had  consulted  in  reference  to  the  affairs 
of  his  kingdom ;  and  yet  Saul  could  not  help  feeling 
that  the  reprover  and  not  the  flatterer  was  the  best 
friend  he  ever  had ;  and,  therefore,  in  his  days  of 
distress  and  perplexity,  he  earnestly  desired  the 
presence  of  the  intrepid  counsellor  whom,  in  his 
prosperous  hours  he  had  hated  and  scorned.  What 
a  testimony  to  the  worth  of  one  who  will  tell  us  of 
our  faults,  and  not  leave  us  undisturbed  in  our  sins. 
What  a  warning  that  we  should  prize  him  while 
present,  lest  we  live  to  wish  his  services  when  they 
can  no  longer  be  obtained. 

How  often,  my  brethren,  does  it  happen  in  the 
history  of  men  that  they  wish  to  bring  back  from 
the  grave  a  friend,  a  father,  or  a  mother  whose 


448  HISTORY    OF    SAUL. 

advice  they  had  despised,  in  order  that  they  might 
enjoy  the  benefit  of  the  counsel  which  they  once 
slighted  and  scorned.  If,  in  such  circumstances, 
they  could  go  to  the  cave  of  some  sorceress ;  they 
would  say  not,  "  Bring  me  up  the  companion  who 
cheered  me  in  my  thoughtlessness,  and  was  with  me 
in  the  revel  and  the  dance,"  but  "  bring  me  up  my 
father  who  told  me  that  '  the  way  of  transgressors 
was  hard,'  or  my  mother,  who  with  weeping  eyes 
and  broken  voice  warned  me  against  the  paths  of 
folly  and  sin."  It  is  when  men  have  learned  from 
wretched  experience  that  there  is  no  peace  in  the 
paths  of  ungodliness,  that  memory  recalls  the  do 
mestic  fireside,  and  the  customary  seats  around  it, 
and  dwells  upon  the  look,  and  tone,  and  gesture  of 
those  who  impressed  upon  them  the  truths  of  the 
Bible ;  and  then  there  rises  in  the  mind  the  passing 
thought,  "  Oh !  that  we  could  call  them  back  again, 
to  profit  as  we  might  do  now  by  their  slighted  in 
structions  and  counsels." 

My  brethren,  if  there  are  any  of  you  who  in 
spite  of  the  reproofs  and  warnings  of  which  you 
have  been  the  subjects  are  giving  yourselves  up  to 
the  world,  "  walking  in  the  way  of  sinners,"  or  sit 
ting,  perhaps,  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful,  "  there 
are  evil  days  coming  when  sorrows  shall  be  multi 
plied,"  and  you  will  know  what  were  the  feelings 
of  the  king  of  Israel  when  he  said  to  the  woman  of 
Eudor,  "  bring  me  up  Samuel."  But  of  what  avail 
such  feelings,  even  could  they  be  gratified  ?  Saul 
had  his  wish  ;  and  Samuel  came  not  with  words  of 
consolation,  but  with  this  message,  "  to-morrow 


HISTOEY    OF   SAUL.  449 

thou  and  thy  sons  shall  be  with  me  in  the  dark, 
cold  grave."  For  if  a  man  has  neglected  the  Lord, 
and  continued  to  resist  the  strivings  of  his  Spirit 
until,  as  in  the  case  of  Saul,  God  has  departed  from 
him,  of  what  avail  to  him  could  be  the  return  of  a 
departed  friend  ?  He  who  remembers  with  anguish 
how  he  despised  the  command  of  his  father,  and  for 
sook  the  law  of  his  mother,  around  whom  gather 
the  Philistines  in  his  hour  of  extremity,  who  feels 
that  he  must  pay  the  penalty  of  his  transgression, 
how  could  he  be  profited  if  the  earth  should  open, 
and  some  well  remembered  form  come  up  covered 
with  a  mantle  ?  If  a  man  has  neglected  God  till 
his  last  hour,  and  cannot  then  find  him,  though  he 
earnestly  seeks  him,  they  who  watched  over  him 
and  prayed  for  him  may  be  summoned  to  his  bed 
side,  but  they  could  speak  no  consolation  ;  they 
could  but  remind  him  of  the  sins  he  had  commit 
ted,  the  opportunities  he  had  squandered,  and  the 
mercies  he  had  scorned. 

May  not  that  remembered  friend  be  one  who 
reproved  and  admonished  from  the  sacred  desk ; 
week  after  week,  and  year  after  year,  he  may  have 
busily  plied  his  instructions  and  appeals.  He  dies, 
perhaps ;  and  you  who  have  been  offended  by  his 
urgency  are  well  pleased  to  be  freed  from  his 
home  strokes  and  his  pointed  remonstrances ;  but 
you  will  think  of  him  again  when  you  feel  that  the 
world  is  slipping  from  your  grasp,  and  that  you 
have  not  laid  hold  upon  eternal  life.  You  will 
think  of  him  again  as  you  toss  upon  your  sick  bed, 
and  have  no  hope  that  your  sins  are  forgiven.  You 
29 


450  niSTOKY   OF  SAUL. 

might,  perhaps,  wish  him  back  again  to  instruct 
and  to  guide  you ;  but  what  could  you  expect  to 
hear  from  his  lips  ?  What  could  a  God-forgetting, 
and  now  a  God-forgotten  man  expect  to  hear  ? 
Sore  pressed  he  might  say,  "  God  answereth  me 
no  more,"  and  when  he  said  so,  this  must  be  the 
answer :  "  Why  hast  thou  disquieted  me  to  bring  me 
up?  Wherefore  dost  thou  ask  of  me  seeing  the 
Lord  is  departed  from  thee,  and  is  become  thine 
enemy."  God  forbid  that  it  should  be  so  with  any 
who  hear  me  to-day ;  but,  remember,  I  pray  you, 
such  must  be  the  end  of  him  who,  never  having 
made  his  peace  with  God,  is  haunted,  at  last,  by 
the  memories  of  oppoi  tunities  which  have  been 
lost,  and  counsels  which  have  been  despised. 


ABUSED  PRIVILEGES. 


"  For  thou  art  not  sent  to  a  people  of  a  strange  speech,  and  of  an 
hard  language,  but  to  the  house  of  Israel :  not  to  many  people  of  a 
strange  speech,  and  of  an  hard  language,  whose  words  thou  canst  not 
understand  :  surely,  had  I  sent  thee  to  them,  they  would  have  heark 
ened  unto  thee.  But  the  house  of  Israel  will  not  hearken  unto  thee  : 
for  they  will  not  hearken  unto  me :  for  all  the  house  of  Israel  are  impu 
dent  and  hard-hearted." — EZEKIEL  iii.  5,  6,  7. 

WHEN  we  read  the  first  two  of  these  verses 
which  wTe  have  selected  for  our  text,  they  seem  to 
speak  of  the  peculiarly  favourable  and  happy  cir 
cumstances  of  the  prophet,  so  far  as  the  sphere  of 
his  official  labour  was  concerned.  The  contrast  is 
very  great  between  his  condition  and  that  of  one 
whose  engagement  in  the  same  work  of  delivering 
the  counsels  of  the  Lord,  involved  a  banishment 
from  his  country,  a  residence  in  an  unhealthy  clime, 
and  an  association  with  rude  and  ignorant  and  in 
hospitable  tribes.  The  scene  of  the  prophet's  min 
istry  was  at  home,  among  his  kinsmen  and  friends, 
to  whom  he  was  united  by  strong  and  enduring 
ties,  and  among  whom,  as  well  by  reason  of  long 
acquaintanceship  as  of  office,  he  occupied  a  station 
of  comfort  and  of  influence.  Now  if  we  should 


452  ABUSED   PEIVILEGES. 

suppose,  concerning  the  prophet,  or  concerning  any 
other  man  in  similar  circumstances,  that  he  must 
necessarily  be  a  stranger  to  all  the  trials  of  a  minis 
terial  life,  we  should  show  that  we  are  drawing  our 
conclusions  from  very  partial  premises,  from  an  al 
together  one-sided  view ;  and  if  we  but  read  the 
concluding  verse  of  our  text,  we  should  discover 
an  idea  which  throws  a  new  light  upon  his  position, 
and  appears  to  teach  us  that  his  trials  are  greater 
than  they  would  have  been,  had  God  thrown  him 
among  a  strange,  untutored  people,  where  he  could 
have  looked  for  none  of  the  comforts  of  home,  and 
none  of  the  joys  of  an  enlightened  companionship. 
We  do  not  by  any  means  consider  of  small  import 
ance,  the  sacrifices  which  are  made  by  one  who 
penetrates  into  the  dark  places  of  the  earth  to 
preach  to  their  benighted  tenantry  the  unsearcha 
ble  riches  of  Christ.  There  is  on  his  part  a  relin 
quish  ment  of  substantial  good ;  there  is  an  amount 
of  pains-taking,  and  self-denial,  and  suffering,  which 
experience  alone  will  enable  one  rightly  to  calcu 
late  ;  and  to  these  sacrifices,  and  endurances,  and 
privations,  the  man  who  labours  in  other  circum 
stances,  may  be  an  entire  stranger.  And  yet  it  is 
a  very  superficial  examination,  leading  to  very 
erroneous  results,  which  in  judging  of  a  man's 
position,  looks  no  farther  than  these  his  external 
relations  ;  for  it  is  seen  at  once,  that  the  most  im 
portant  element  to  a  right  standard  of  judgment, 
the  end  a  man  has  in  view,  is  left  entirely  out  of 
the  account.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  this  prin 
ciple  is  unquestionable,  that  a  man's  position  is  to 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  453 

be  estimated  as  favourable  or  unfavourable,  not  in 
the  light  simply  of  some  of  its  adventitious  circum 
stances,  but  in  the  light  rather  of  its  relations  to 
the  great  object  of  his  existence  upon  which  his 
heart  is  set.     We  take  an  example  or  two  for  illus 
tration.     The  great  object  of  the  warrior  is  mili 
tary  renown ;  and  when  he  traverses  inhospitable 
regions,  and  submits  to  the  privations  of  the  camp, 
and  exposes  himself  to  the  dangers  of  the  battle 
field,  he  makes  many,  and  substantial,  and  painful 
sacrifices  ;  but  when  you  think  of  his  object,  and  see 
him  returning  covered  with  the  glory  of  his  mili 
tary  successes,  oh  !  surely,  his  position  has  been  far 
more  enviable,  his  circumstances  far  more  desira 
ble,  than  those  of  one  who  has  never  moved  from 
the  comforts  of  the  domestic  fireside,  and  never 
been  exposed  to  any  of  the  dangers  of  flood  or 
field,  or  had  an  opportunity  of  signalizing  himself 
by  any  public  achievement.     The  man  whose  ob 
ject  is  wealth,   domesticates   himself  in   a  sickly 
climate,  and  in  associations  of  all  others  most  un 
friendly  to  personal  comfort ;  and  herein  he  suifers 
evils  to  which  a  man  who  remains  among  his  kins 
men   and  his  friends,  is  an   entire  stranger;  but 
when   he   returns   from  his  wanderings,  brino-ino- 

o    /  o      o 

with  him  as  his  reward  his  large  possessions,  they 
in  whose  eyes  wealth  is  the  chief  good,  do  not 
think  of  comparing  to  its  disadvantage,  his  position 
with  that  one,  who,  though  he  may  have  expe 
rienced  but  few  discomforts,  has  yet  scarce  attained 
a  competency  ;  and  the  reason  is  obvious.  The 
success  in  the  one  case  is  more  than  an  equivalent 


454  ABUSED    PKIVILEGES. 

for  all  the  toils  necessary  to  secure  it ;  and  the 
failure  in  the  other  case  is  not  compensated  by  the 
personal  comforts,  for  the  sake  of  which  it  has 
been  submitted  to. 

In  applying  this  rule  of  judgment,  then,  to  the 
subject  which  in  this  discourse  we  have  undertaken 
to  handle,  I  would  ask  my  hearers,  in  the  first 
place,  to  form  a  right  estimate  of  the  great  end  of 
ministerial  labour,  and  keep  their  eyes  fixed  stead 
ily  upon  it.  It  will  not  be  denied  by  those  who 
have  with  any  degree  of  care  looked  at  the  subject, 
that  the  work  in  which  as  ambassadors  of  Jesus 
Christ  we  are  engaged,  is  a  work  of  no  little  pains 
taking  and  toil.  The  amount  of  intellectual  effort 
which  the  full  proof  of  one's  ministry  demands,  and 
the  degree  of  mental  anxiety  which  it  involves,  the 
earnestness  of  endeavour  which  a  right  spirit 
brings  to  the  work  beforehand,  the  solicitude  while 
actually  engaged  in  putting  forth  efforts,  and  the 
intense  and  eager  expectation,  or  the  painfuj,  sad 
dening  fear  of  results,  are  not  surpassed,  if,  indeed, 
they  are  equalled  in  any  department  of  human  life, 
or  in  any  sphere  of  human  industry.  The  result 
contemplated  as  the  reward  of  all  our  wearisome 
endeavours,  is  not  any  earthly  advantage,  is  not 
any  station  of  earthly  influence,  is  not  any  amount, 
however  great,  of  earthly  applause.  I  know  there 
are  minds  which  ignorance  contracts,  and  preju 
dice  perverts,  which  seem  to  think  that  in  our  day, 
at  least,  the  ministry  of  reconciliation,  in  the  most 
unfavourable  circumstances,  receive,  in  an  earthly 
point  of  view,  a  very  fair  equivalent  for  all  their 


ABUSED   PRIVILEGES.  455 

expenditure  of  time,  and  talent,  and  heart ;  but  all 
my  hearers,  I  am  sure,  will  concede  this  fact,  that 
there  is  no  man  of  mind  enough,  'and  industry 
enough,  and  heart  enough  for  an  able  and  faithful 
minister  of  the  New  Testament,  who  could  not,  in 
many  other  spheres  of  human  effort,  with  far  less 
of  toil,  reach  a  higher  position,  and  secure  greater 
distinction,  and  gather  to  himself  a  larger  amount 
of  earthly  good  than  he  can  ever  think  of  doing, 
or  would  ever  wish  to  do  in  the  sphere  of  labour 
to  which  Providence  has  assigned  him.  But  none 
of  these  constitute  the  result  at  which  our  ministry 
aims ;  we  look  in  another  direction,  we  have  to  do 
with  the  spritualities  of  man's  existence ;  our  object 
is  to  give  impressiveness  and  power  to  unseen 
and  eternal  things.  We  set  ourselves  to  war  with 
those  influences  which  chain  down  the  thoughts  to 
sense,  and  give  to  the  affairs  of  this  fleeting  life  a 
paramount  importance  to  the  scenes  of  an  eternal 
duration.  To  elevate,  and  enlighten,  and  sanctify 
the  mind,  to  bring  the  human  spirit  back  from  its 
sinful  and  hopeless  wanderings,  to  reclaim  man 
from  his  spiritual  alienation,  to  break  the  dominion 
of  sin,  to  lead  the  rebellious  to  submission  to  God, 
and  the  weary  and  heavy  laden  to  the  liberty, 
and  peace,  and  refreshment  of  the  gospel;  these 
are  the  objects  at  which  we  aim,  and  the  attain 
ment  of  which  is  the  only  reward  which  we  can 
look  upon  as,  in  any  light,  a  compensation  for  our 
effort  and  our  toil. 

There  are,  indeed,  other  incidental  and  collateral 
results  following  our  labours.   In  the  unmeasured 


456  ABUSED    PEIVILEGES. 

superiority  of  a  Christian  civilization  over  an  untu 
tored  barbarism,  in  the  peace  and  security,  in  the 
intellectual  and  moral  development,  in  the  honesties 
and  decencies  and  courtesies  of  life,  every  where 
seen  where  religion,  in  its  general  influence,  is  in 
terwoven  in  the  whole  texture  of  society,  and 
cements  its  fabric,  you  behold  that  to  which  you 
would  be  utter  strangers,  but  for  the  cross  of 
Christ,  and  the  pulpit  which  illustrates  its  princi 
ples,  and  enforces  its  claims ;  yet  notwithstanding 
all  this,  which  is  undeniably  the  fruit  of  our  min 
istry,  we  fall  short  of  our  great  aim  when  through 
our  instrumentality  sinners  are  not  converted  unto 
God,  and  men  are  not  presented  perfect  in  Jesus 
Christ.  Now  then,  we  insist  upon  it,  that  if  you 
would  understand  us  aright,  you  must  estimate  us  as 
you  estimate  others,  precisely  as  you  estimate  the 
man  of  business,  or  the  man  of  fame ;  you  must  judge 
of  the  advantage  or  disadvantages  of  our  position 
from  its  bearing  upon  the  great  end  we  have  in 
view.  This  rule  of  judgment,  then,  we  shall  en 
deavour  to  apply. 

And  here  it  will  be  admitted,  that  he  who 
(to  borrow  the  language  of  my  text)  labours  with 
"  the  house  of  Israel,"  is  in  a  position,  in  many  re 
spects  far  more  desirable  than  he  who  goes  "  to  a 
people  of  a  strange  speech  and  of  a  hard  lan 
guage."  I  would  not,  for  example,  detract  at  all 
from  the  admiration  which  is  justly  due  to  the  self- 
denying  missionary,  who  in  cutting  himself  loose 
from  the  social  circle,  in  whose  sympathies  he  was 
wont  to  live,  and  in  renouncing  the  comforts  of 


ABUSED    PEIVILEGES.  457 

home  for  the  privations  and  toils  of  a  foreign  ser 
vice,  makes  a  sacrifice  of  great  and  substantial 
good.  Here  we,  it  is  granted,  submit  to  no  such  tem 
poral  inconvenience,  court  no  such  temporal  discom 
forts,  expose  ourselves  to  no  such  temporal  dangers  ; 
we  sit  under  our  own  vine  and  under  our  own  fig- 
tree,  surrounded  by  those  who  interchange  with  us 
the  warmest  affections,  and  in  possession  of  every 
thing  which  can  administer  to  the  comforts  of  life. 
But  observe,  my  brethren,  if  we  judge  men  in  the 
light  solely  of  these  considerations,  we  have  a  de 
fective  and  therefore  a  false  standard ;  and  our  con 
clusion  will  be  very  wide  of  the  mark.  The  ques 
tion  is,  not  who  has  the  most  comforts  around  him 
of  a  personal  character — not  who  makes  the  most 
sacrifices,  or  submits  to  the  fewest  trials — here 
there  is  no  dispute  ;  but,  who  occupies  the  best  po 
sition,  so  far  as  the  successful  accomplishment  of 
his  great  end  is  concerned  ;  whose  ministry  is  likely 
to  produce  the  greatest  results,  in  sinners  brought 
home  to  Jesus  Christ? 

Now,  to  a  superficial  observer,  even  with  this 
standard  of  judgment,  the  advantages  seem  alto 
gether  on  the  side  of  him  who  labours  with  the 
house  of  Israel.  The  man  who  goes  to  an  untu 
tored  population,  has  a  vast  amount  of  preliminary 
work  to  do,  before  he  can  put  himself  in  the  con 
dition  which  I  occupy.  I  am  saved  the  necessity 
of  establishing  the  first  principles  of  truth.  I  am 
not  called  upon  to  begin  with  the  lowest  elements  of 
proof,  and  demonstrate  the  being  and  unity  of  God, 
and  the  absurdity  of  idolatry  and  polytheism. 


458  ABUSED   PKIVILEGES. 

This  process  has  all  been  gone  through  with  al 
ready  ;  the  fundamental  principles  at  least  of  the 
gospel,  are  established ;  nay,  with  its  cardinal  doc 
trines,  I  may  suppose  rny  hearers  intimately  ac 
quainted,  from  the  youngest  to  the  oldest.  I  be 
lieve  no  one  is  ignorant,  wholly,  of  the  redemption 
in  Christ  Jesus,  the  love  of  the  Saviour,  his  sacrifice 
for  sin,  or  in  short,  of  any  of  the  great  elemental 
and  distinguishing  truths,  in  which  resides  the 
mighty  power  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  I 
occupy  a  more  advanced  point  than  another,  in  cir 
cumstances  directly  the  opposite,  and  it  would 
seem  as  though  my  way  was  clear  for  the  success 
ful  accomplishment  of  my  great  end,  as  a  minister 
of  Jesus  Christ.  And  I  do  not  say  that  it  may  not 
be  so.  I  do  not  say,  that  one  in  my  circumstances 
may  not,  by  reason  of  his  more  favourable  opportu 
nities,  do  more  for  his  Master  and  win  more  souls 
to  Christ,  than  one  for  whom  all  this  preliminary 
work  has  not  been  accomplished.  It  may  be  so, 
and  yet  there  are  reasons  for  thinking  that  gene 
rally  it  will  not  be  so ;  and  God,  when  speaking  to 
the  prophet  Ezekiel,  did  not  think  so.  When  he 
told  him  that  he  was  sending  him  not  to  a  strange 
people,  but  to  the  house  of  Israel,  he  designed  to 
shew  him  beforehand  the  fruitlessness  of  his  mission. 
For,  says  he,  "  Surely  had  I  sent  thee  to  a  strange 
people,  they  would  have  hearkened  unto  thee." 
And  here  I  have  an  illustration  directly  in  point, 
furnished  by  a  comparison  between  the  ministry  of 
Ezekiel  and  the  ministry  of  Jonah.  The  former 
went  to  his  work  cheerfully,  because  he  was  going 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  459 

among  his  own  kinsmen,  but  when  Jonah 
was  commissioned  to  bear  a  message  to  the  Nine- 
vites,  he  shrunk  back,  because  it  was  such  an  un 
promising  task  to  preach  to  a  people  of  a  strange 
language,  and  uninstructed  in  religion.  Yet  look 
at  the  results.  Ezekiel's  was  a  fruitless,  and  Jo 
nah's  a  successful  ministry — the  Ninevites  repented, 
and  Israel  remained  obdurate.  And  now,  we  ask 
the  question,  as  to  these  two,  who  occupied  the  best 
position,  the  man  who  laboured  amid  the  external 
comforts  and  encouragements  of  home,  or  the  man 
who  went  forward  amid  all  that  was  disheartening 
in  the  circumstances  of  a  strange  association  ? 

There  is  one  consideration,  my  brethren,  which 
in  forming  our  judgment  upon  such  a  subject,  we 
are  very  apt  to  overlook,  which  has  nevertheless 
more  to  do  with  the  matter,  than  I  had  almost 
said  all  others  combined.  When  you  look  at  the 
prophet  Ezekiel  going  to  preach  to  the  house  of 
Israel,  there  is  indeed  much  that  is  pleasing  in  the 
thought  that  he  is  going  to  his  own  kinsmen,  and  at 
first  sight,  much  that  is  encouraging  in  the  fact  that 
they  are  not  ignorant  of  the  first  principles  of  the 
oracles  of  God ;  but  then  the  house  of  Israel  had 
been  the  subjects  of  frequent  inculcations  of  divine 
truth,  and  oft-repeated  warnings ;  prophet-  after 
prophet  had  exhorted  them  to  repentance  in  vain, 
and  each  messenger,  as  he  retired,  left  them  more 
obdurate  than  before.  They  are  considered  as  be 
yond  the  reach  of  means,  and  the  prophet  acts 
upon  them  but  to  harden  them  the  more,  and  ren 
der  them,  more  inexcusable  in  their  guilt.  The 


460  ABUSED    PEIVILEGES. 

fact  that  they  were  the  house  of  Israel,  a  people  in 
covenant  with  God,  blessed  with  the  revelation  of 
his  will,  and  yet  unprofited  and  unsanctified 
through  its  truths,  this  is  the  reason  why  the  pro 
phet's  m  inistry  among  them  would  be  less  effectual, 
and  his  position,  therefore,  less  desirable,  than  they 
would  have  been,  had  he,  like  Jonah,  been  sent  to 
the  untaught  and  idolatrous  Gentiles. 

And  thus  it  is  that  we  wish  you  to  take  into  the 
account,  that  the  likelihood  of  men  obeying  the 
gospel,  is  usually  diminishing  in  proportion  to  the 
frequency  with  which  that  gospel  is  preached  to 
them,  and  its  appeals  ministered  upon  them.  I 
wish  you  thoroughly  to  understand  me,  that  you 
may  not  misinterpret  my  meaning,  that  I  am  not 
speaking  in  the  light  of  one's  external  relations, 
but  only  in  the  light  of  one's  great  end  in  preach 
ing  the  gospel,  the  conversion  of  sinners  unto  God, 
when  I  say  that  there  may  be  more  to  disquiet, 
and  more  to  discourage,  more  to  alarm,  and  more 
to  dishearten  one,  in  preaching  the  gospel  to  pre 
cisely  such  a  congregation  as  is  now  before  me, 
than  in  preaching  the  gospel  to  an  untutored  tribe. 
That  there  is  not,  on  the  broad  face  of  earth,  an 
audience  so  unfavourable,  an  audience  out  of  which 
there  is  so  little  probability  of  converts  being, 
brought  to  vital  Christianity,  as  one  made  up  like 
my  own,  of  a  people  so  thoroughly  indoctrinated, 
and  so  completely  versed  in  the  theory,  and  in  the 
theory  only,  of  religion. 

I  will  not,  my  brethren,  leave  this  statement  be 
fore  you,  in  this  its  bald  and  unsupported  shape, 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  461 

but  will  endeavour  to  furnish  you  with  its  proof, 
and  thus  prepare  your  minds  for  the  use,  which  in 
the  sequel,  I  intend,  to  make  of  it.  Now  since 
what  is  true  of  one  person,  must  be  true  of  an  as 
sembly  of  those  who  are  precisely  like  him,  and  as 
it  is  easier  to  speak  of  an  individual  than  of  masses, 
we  shall  take  an  individual  and  illustrate,  in  refer 
ence  to  him,  the  truth  of  our  doctrine ;  and  it 
seems  almost  enough  to  force  conviction,  to  ask  the 

O  / 

question :  Who  is  the  most  promising  subject  of 
ministerial  effort,  the  man  who  hears  the  gospel  for 
the  first  time,  or  the  man  who  unaffected,  unmoved, 
and  unchanged,  has  heard  it  a  thousand  times  ?  I 

O          7 

do  not  forget,  in  propounding  this  question,  that  it 
is  a  higher  than  any  human  influence,  which  ren 
ders  the  gospel  effectual.  I  do  not  forget  that  the 
Spirit  of  Omnipotence,  who  brings  the  dead  to  life, 
and  gives  to  man  who  has  worn  the  grave-clothes 
of  sin  and  death,  to  know  the  power  of  a  spiritual 
resurrection,  is  as  mighty  at  one  time  as  at  another  ; 
but  then,  I  would  have  you  remember  that  he 
works  through  an  appointed  instrumentality  of 
means  ;  and  when  those  means  have  been  used  oft 
and  in  vain,  oh !  it  is  not  limiting  the  might  of 
Omnipotence,  to  speak  of  the  diminished  proba 
bility  of  their  ultimate  success.  Certainly  there  is 
less  hope  of  a  man  who  has  heard  month  after 
month,  and  year  after  year,  our  message  of  recon 
ciliation  with  God,  and  yet  remained  indifferent  to 
the  mighty  and  the  stirring  interests  of  his  soul, 
and  his  immortality,  than  of  the  man  who  is  com 
paratively  a  stranger  to  its  awakening  truths,  and 


462  ABUSED    PRIVILEGES. 

lias  never  been  influenced  in  his  life  by  its  won 
drous  and  mighty  motives ;  for  in  coming  to  a  man 
who  has  long  been  familiar  with,  and  yet  has  with 
stood  all  the  appeals  of  a  spiritual  Christianity, 
who  has  given  to  the  Bible  the  assent  of  his  under 
standing,  and  withheld  from  it  the  affections  of  his 
heart,  we  feel  (and  herein  is  our  discouragement) 
that  we  are  coming  to  cope  with  a  heart  whose 
hardness  has  already  been  more  than  a  match  for 
the  instrumentality  which  breaketh  the  rock  in 
pieces,  and  that,  therefore,  we  are  but  repeating 
an  experiment  which  has  a  hundred  times  failed. 
Granted  that  a  rock  which  has  under  ninety-nine 
blows  showed  no  signs  of  yielding,  may  yet  break 
under  the  hundreth,  yet  when  there  is  the  same 
amount  of  resistance,  and  only  the  same  engine  of 
attack,  there  cannot  be  much  hope  in  renewing 
that  which  has  often  been  tried  in  vain.  But  then 
you  must  go  farther,  and  remember  that  the 
amount  of  resistance  is  actually  increased  by  the 
constant  action  of  the  power  which  would  over 
come  it,  just  as  an  arch  becomes  more  coherent, 
and  compact,  and  strong,  by  the  weight  you  put 
upon  it ;  and  the  flood  gathers  mightier  force  by 
means  of  the  very  dam  which  would  obstruct  its 
current. 

There  is  in  spiritual  as  well  as  in  natural  things 
the  power  of  familiarity  to  be  taken  into  the  ac 
count  as  affecting  man's  susceptibility  of  impression. 
We  may  by  custom  become  so  insensible  to  the 
roar  of  cannon  that  our  softest  slumbers  will  not 
be  disturbed  by  its  loudest  reverberations  ;  and  we 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  463 

may  grow  deaf  to  all  the  declarations  of  the  word 
of  God  so  as  not  to  be  startled  by  one  of  them. 
We  know  it ;  and  how  then  can  it  be  supposed 
that  there  is  more  prospect  of  ministerial  success 
with  him  whom  the  gospel  has  completely  deafened 
than  with  him  who  has  been  so  far  removed  from 
its  sound  that  he  has  never  heard  of  immortality, 
nor  been  offered  salvation  ?  Is  there  any  more  war 
rant  in  Scripture  than  in  reason  for  the  hope  that 
he  who  has  been  educated  in  Christian  principles, 
and  plied  with  the  Christian  ministry,  and  is  yet 
a  stranger  to  spiritual  religion,  will  yield  to  another 
exhortation,  or  submit  under  another  sermon  ?  nay, 
is  there  as  much  ground  for  a  hope  of  success  in 
this  case,  as  in  the  case  of  a  man  who  has  been  de 
prived  of  every  advantage,  that  he  will  hearken  to 
our  message  delivered  in  all  the  first  freshness  of 
redemption  through  the  blood  of  Christ  ?  In  the 
latter  case,  we  have,  indeed,  to  cope  with  the  for 
midable  opposition  of  ignorance,  and  it  may  be  of 
superstition  ;  but,  in  the  former  case,  we  have  the 
mightier  and  more  effectual  resistance  presented 
by  a  combination  of  enlightened  intellects  and  un 
affected  hearts. 

There  is  something,  my  brethren,  in  a  mere  nom 
inal  Christianity  which  renders  it  on  some  accounts 
more  to  be  dreaded  than  the  ignorance  of  untu 
tored  nature.  As  with  every  other  blessing,  so  it 
is  with  religion,  the  easier  it  is  of  access  the  more 
lightly  is  it  esteemed,  and  the  more  apt  is  it  to  be 
disregarded.  Nothing  seems  too  hard  for  us  to 
endure  in  order  to  attain  a  good  which  demands  a 


464  ABUSED    PKIVILEGES. 

struggle ;  but  how  prone  are  we  to  become  indif 
ferent  to  that  for  which  when  in  jeopardy  we 
would  have  fought  most  manfully !  We  have  the 
gospel ;  we  are  to  reach  its  benefits  not  in  the  face 
of  persecution,  nor  by  surrendering  our  worldly 
advantages ;  and  because  it  is  so  our  circumstances 
are  not  so  favourable  to  the  spread  of  a  vital  Chris 
tianity.  It  does  not  by  any  means  follow  that 
religion  will  be  ingrafted  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
because  it  is  interwoven  in  the  institutions  of  the 
country ;  the  very  opposite  is  more  likely  to  be  the 
fact.  The  blessing  may  be  undervalued,  because 
it  is  within  the  reach  of  all ;  and  while  an  outward 
regard  to  it  may  be  the  marked  characteristic  of 
a  whole  community,  they  may  be  no  less  distin 
guished  by  a  practical  indifference  to  it ;  and  thus 
a  people  who  have  enjoyed  the  clearest  light  of  the 
gospel  may,  as  they  become  hardened  under  its 
influences,  convert  their  very  privileges  into  the 
grounds  of  their  more  certain  and  severer  condem 
nation. 

I  would  not  have  you  forget,  at  this  point,  that 
it  is  a  peculiarity  of  Christianity,  that  where  its 
light  and  instructions  are  enjoyed,  there  must  be 
the  accompaniment  of  increased  responsibility,  and 
the  consequence  either  of  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  or 
settled  opposition  to  his  claims.  God's  word,  where 
it  is  faithfully  sent  forth,  never  returns  to  him  void, 
accomplishing  nothing  either  in  the  way  of  mercy 
or  of  judgment.  And  so  the  clearness  of  gospel 
light,  and  the  multiplicity  of  gospel  advantages, 
may  be  not  only  the  precursors,  but  the  instru- 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  465 

raents  of  a  general  blindness  of  mind,  and  deadness 
of  heart.  And  a  people  subjected  to  the  well  ar 
ranged  and  well  plied  machinery  of  religion  may, 
by  reason  of  this  fact,  be  fast  falling  into  that  state 
into  which  we  may  suppose  the  hearers  of  Ezekiel 
to  have  been,  which  rendered  his  ministry  to  them 
more  ineffectual  and  hopeless  than  it  would  have 
been  among  a  people  as  ignorant  and  superstitious 
as  the  men  of  Mneveh,  to  whom  Jonah  preached 
with  such  effectiveness  and  success. 

It  is  this  peculiarity  of  Christianity  which  throws 
such  an  unpromising  aspect  over  fields  of  ministe 
rial  labour,  which  on  other  accounts  seem  so  easy 
of  cultivation.     We  enter  upon  our  work  with  zeal 
and  constancy,  but  we  cannot  forget  the  former 
unpropitiousness  of  our  labours ;  though,  here  and 
there,  there  may  have  been  a  conversion  unto  God, 
shewing  that  Christ  has  not  altogether  left  himself 
without  a  witness,  yet  the  general  state  of  things 
is  unchanged  ;  and  the  very  soil  which  former  til 
lage  has  but  rendered  more  unproductive,  is  to  be 
subdued  into  fruitfulness  by  means   which   have 
thus  far  produced  an  opposite  result.     And  how 
can  we  help  feeling  th^fc  the  very  circumstances 
which  to  a  superficial  observer  render  our  work  so 
simple  and  so  pleasing,  in  point  of  fact  render  it 
more  perplexed  and  trying  ;  and  that  we  have  in 
reality  less  promise  of  ministerial  success  than  we 
should  have  were  we  coming  for  the  first  time  to 
pour  the  light  of  the  gospel  upon  the  minds  of  our 
hearers,  and  to  send  home  its  wondrously  stirring 
motives  to  their  hearts. 
30 


466  ABUSED    PRIVILEGES. 

So  fully  convinced  am  I  of  the  main  position  of 
this  discourse,  that  I  cannot  forego  appending  to 
my  illustration  a  reflection  of  most  thrilling  in 
terest,  and  of  deepest  moment  to  all  who  hear  me. 

In  view  of  the  process  (spiritual  process,  I  mean,) 
which  is  going  on  in  the  minds  of  those  who  are 
the  subjects  of  a  nominal  Christianity,  and  the  re 
sults  in  which  in  all  likelihood  that  process  will 
issue,  what  inference  ought  we  to  draw  relative  to 
our  position  at  the  last  ?  This  is  but  the  first  stage 
of  our  being,  and  we  are  preparing  for  another. 
It  is  ours  to  think — and  oh  !  it  is  a  fearful  reck 
lessness  on  our  part  painfully  demonstrative  of  the 
truth  of  my  doctrine,  that  we  do  not  think  of  it- 
it  is  ours  to  think  of  that  platform  of  judgment 
which  is  soon  to  be  erected,  and  upon  which  all  of 
human  kind  are  to  be  gathered ;  and  when  that 
mighty  congregation  shall  be  summoned  of  every 
tribe,  and  kindred,  and  people  under  the  face  of 
the  whole  heaven,  will  there  not,  must  there  not 
be,  think  you,  the  uprising  of  unbaptized  thous 
ands,  the  swarming  of  many  millions,  who  shall 
unite  their  voices  in  calling  to  a  severer  condemna 
tion  those  for  whom  tire  light  and  privileges  of 
the  gospel  have  accomplished  no  other  end  than  to 
develope  their  more  thorough  wickedness  ?  We  can 
not  draw  aside  the  curtain  of  the  future,  and  discover 
the  arrangement  which  will  hereafter  be  made  of 
all  the  tribes  who  shall  go  up  from  this  world  to 
judgment.  But  here  is  the  thought  with  which  I 
would  leave  the  discussion  of  my  subject,  and  I 
would  that  it  might  sink  deep  into  the  minds  of  all 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  46 T 

of  us  :  If  we  stand  before  the  last  tribunal  unre 
conciled  and  unforgiven,  and  lie  who  is  to  fix  our 
destinies,  shall  say,  as  he  points  to  some  untutored 
savage,  "  Had  I  sent  unto  him,  he  would  have 
hearkened  to  me,"  would  we  not  at  once  under 
stand  his  verdict,  and  would  we  not  ourselves  join 
with  all  orders  of  intelligences  in  applauding  his 
righteous  decision  ? 

My  dear  brethren,  I  stand  before  you  to-day  as 
a  minister  of  reconciliation,  in  the  spot  which  Pro 
vidence  has  assigned  me,  and  w^here  for  more  than 
sixteen  years  I  have  been  delivering  the  messages 
of  truth,  and  ministering  the  word  of  eternal  life  ; 
and  as  the  prospect  of  returning  to  the  sphere  in 
which  I  have  been  called  to  act,  has  been  before 
me,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  oft  the  words  which  I 
have  chosen  for  my  text,  have  come  home  to  me 
almost  with  the  power  and  distinctness  of  a  new 
revelation,  "  Thou  art  not  sent  to  a  people  of  a 
strange  speech,  and  of  a  hard  language,  but  to  the 
house  of  Israel ;  not  to  many  people  of  a  strange, 
and  a  hard  language,  whose  words  thou  canst  not 
understand." 

I  feel  it  to  be  a  privilege  to  stand  where  I  do. 
I  should  belie  my  own  convictions,  and  dishonour 
my  own  emotions,  which  constantly  struggle  for 
utterance,  if  I  did  not  express  my  views  of  the 
kindness  of  Providence  in  placing  me  where  I  am. 
If  kind  attention,  and  Christian  sympathy,  and 
evidences  of  attachment  too  strong  and  numerous 
to  be  overlooked,  and  a  welcome,  in  its  sincerity 
and  warmth  far  beyond  any  thing  I  had  antici- 


468  ABUSED    PEIVILEGES. 

pated,  give  character  to  one's  position,  I  cannot,  in 
view  of  these  outward  circumstances  of  my  case, 
be  sufficiently  thankful  to  him  who  has  ordered  my 
lot.  Externally  my  relations  are  every  thing  I 
would  have  them  to  be.  He  who  searches  the 
heart  knows  I  would  not  change  them  if  I  could. 
Yet  while  I  could  not  without  some  such  public 
expression,  do  justice  to  my  own  feelings,  I  cannot 
refrain  from  turning  my  mind  in  another  direction. 
I  cannot  but  think  of  the  end  of  my  ministry, 
which  is  not  personal  comfort,  which  is  not  per 
sonal  fame,  but  which  is  to  "  present  you  all  perfect 
in  Christ  Jesus;"  and  the  thought  often  comes 
with  a  crushing  weight  upon  my  spirit,  that  the 
comforts  of  life,  however  great,  the  pleasures  of 
earthly  companionship,  however  many,  the  joys  of 
social  sympathy,  however  enlightened  and  effective, 
never,  no,  never,  no,  never,  can  compensate  for  an 
unblessed  and  fruitless  ministry. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  thought,  I  have 
thrown  my  subject  out  before  you,  and  with  a  two 
fold  object ;  first,  to  show  to  those  of  my  hearers 
who  have  any  power  at  the  throne  of  grace,  how 
much  I  need  an  interest  in  their  prayers.  You 
follow  with  your  sympathies  and  your  supplica 
tions,  the  man  who  leaves  his  home  and  goes  to  an 
inhospitable  clime  to  preach  to  some  untutored 
tribe  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  The  pe 
culiar  trials  of  his  work,  and  the  hardships  of  his 
task,  call  out  your  sympathies  and  your  prayers, 
and  I  would  not  have  you  withhold  one  of  them  ; 
he  needs,  he  demands,  he  has  a  right  to  expect 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  469 

them  all ;  and  as  Christians  we  ought  to  be  hum 
bled  because  they  are  not  more  earnest  and 
effective  in  his  behalf.  But  then,  my  Christian 
brethren,  does  he  who  now  addresses  you,  need 
them  less,  in  order  that  he  may  accomplish  the 
end  of  his  ministry  ?  True,  there  is  about  him 
none,  if  I  may  speak  so,  of  the  moral  romance  or 
chivalry  which  leads  one  to  abandon  home,  and 
give  himself  to  the  work  of  the  missionary  in 
foreign  lands.  But  then  there  is  as  much  of  the 
stern  realities  of  toil  and  labour,  and  less  prospect 
of  success.  You  pray  for  the  foreign  labourer,  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  may  accompany  him,  because  his 
wondrous  agency  is  needed  to  remove  the  blind 
ness,  and  overcome  the  prejudices,  and  change  the 
hearts  of  the  idolatrous  and  superstitious ;  but  is 
the  agency  of  that  Spirit  less  or  more  needed,  to 
overcome  the  opposition  not  of  involuntary,  but  of 
wilful  blindness  ;  to  break  the  iron,  as  it  is  found 
in  its  native  beds,  or  the  iron  which  has  become 
more  hardened  by  the  thousand  fires  which  have 
heated  it  ?  Who  needs  your  sympathies  the  most, 
the  man  who  goes  to  till  the  soil  which  he  finds  in 
all  the  richness  of  undisturbed  nature,  or  he  who 
goes  to  cultivate  a  field  whose  energies  have  been 
exhausted  by  the  very  means  which  have  been 
used  to  render  it  productive  ? 

If  my  ministry  in  the  field  which  God  has  set 
me  to  cultivate  proves  an  unfruitful  one,  it  will  not 
be  for  want  of  laborious  and  toilsome  cultivation ; 
but  then  I  know  that  it  never  can  be  a  fruitful 
one,  without  your  hearty  co-operation,  and  your 


470  ABUSED    PKIVILEGES. 

earnest  and  most  ardent  prayers.  I  lay  my  subject 
"before  you,  then,  as  the  ground  of  my  appeal, 
which  I  address  to  you  in  the  language  of  an  apos 
tle  :  "  Brethren,  pray  for  us,  that  the  word  of  God 
may  have  free  course,  and  be  glorified." 

And  you,  my  dear  brethren,  who  have  never  yet 
known  "  the  gospel,"  as  "  the  power  of  God  unto 
salvation ;"  you  "  for  whom  I  have  so  greatly 
longed  in  the  bowels  of  Jesus  Christ ;"  you  will  not 
turn  away  from  one  who  speaks  to  you  out  of  the 
fulness  of  a  Christian  pastor's  heart.  I  am  not  in 
sensible  to  the  interest  of  the  relation  which  sub 
sists  between  us  as  men.  I  cannot  but  be  thankful 
to  you  for  all  your  evidences  of  attachment,  and 
for  the  marked  attention  you  have  given  to  my  im 
perfect  ministrations.  If  these  were  the  only 
legitimate  ends  of  my  ministry  with  you,  oh !  how 
rich  should  I  think  my  returns  for  all  my  labours 
and  my  toil.  I  have  not  an  unkind  feeling  to 
cherish,  nor  an  unkind  thought  to  utter  respect 
ing  one  of  my  unconverted  hearers,  so  far  as 
I  am  personally  concerned,  but  when  I  speak 
for  my  Master,  oh !  I  have  much  to  say  against 
them.  They  have  given  an  attention  to  the  ser 
vant  which  they  have  denied  to  his  Lord — they 
have  given  their  hearts  to  the  messenger,  and 
refused  them  to  Him  who  sent  him.  Do  I  not 
state  the  truth  concerning  you,  and  how  faithless 
would  I  be  to  my  trust  to  wish  to  leave  it  so.  No, 
my  brethren,  no  !  Christ  only  is  worthy  of  your 
love.  Christ  has  been  using  my  feeble  instrumen 
tality  only  that  he  may  gain  your  hearts,  and  I 


ABUSED    PRIVILEGES.  471 

would  have  you  look  at  your  peril,  as  those  upon 
whom  that  instrumentality  hag  been  plied  in  vain. 
Oh !  beware  of  the  deep  guilt  and  fearful 
danger  of  abused  privileges.  Better  to  have 
been  born  worshippers  of  the  unknown  spirit 
of  the  mountains,  than  to  have  been  born  un 
der  the  light  of  the  gospel,  and  to  have  neg 
lected  Him  who  has  e-poken  to  us  by  his  Son. 
Then  God  might  have  said,  "They  would  have 
hearkened  had  they  been  called ;"  but  now  he  must 
say,  "  I  have  stretched  out  my  hands  to  a  disobe 
dient  people." 

Let  me  then  beseech  you  not  to  act  so  as  to  turn 
your  very  advantages  into  witnesses  against  you  at 
the  judgment ;  do  not,  I  pray  you,  suffer  yourselves 
to  be  crushed  by  the  weight  of  your  mercies.  In 
God's  name  and  in  God's  strength,  from  this  very 
moment,  turn  your  privileges  to  account,  and  let 
not  these  Sabbath  hours  and  these  means  of  grace, 
a  mother's  prayers  and  a  father's  counsels,  the  in 
structions  of  Providence,  and  the  warnings  and 
appeals  of  our  ministry,  which  if  improved  might 
save  you — oh !  let  them  not  help  to  build  the 
prison,  and  forge  the  chains,  and  fan  the  flames 
which  shall  confine  and  manacle  and  burn  for  ever. 


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